


Half Moon

by prdshan



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Gen, Hate to Love, Heavy Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Slow Burn, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prdshan/pseuds/prdshan
Summary: Despite hating each other for their entire lives, Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin just can't seem to escape one another.But maybe that's a good thing.(Alternatively: Jisung just happens to be in the right place, at the right time).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd, to be edited later.

Jisung didn’t know exactly when it started, how it had started, or even what caused it. He could not – to this day – pinpoint the exact moment he had begun hating Hwang Hyunjin.

Maybe it had started when they were both six years old, and Hyunjin had made a comment about Jisung’s crooked teeth, even though they’d just met and had barely known each other at the time. Or maybe it could have been when he had laughed at Jisung on their first day of first grade because, unlike Hyunjin, Jisung had barely grown at all since they’d left preschool – not all of them could have abnormally long limb, Jisung thought now.

There were many –  _ many –  _ instances Jisung could use as examples, but he didn’t need to. All anyone needed to know was that he could not, for the life of him,  _ stand  _ Hwang Hyunjin. 

And the feeling was definitely mutual.

He was glad their hatred went both ways, because that meant that he didn’t have to feel even an ounce of guilt about how he’d called Hyunjin a cry-baby when he’d fallen off the monkey-bars and scraped his knee in second grade, crying all the way to the nurse's office on a disgruntled Jisung’s back. He didn’t have to feel guilty about how, in high school, he’d spread a vicious rumour about Hyunjin having a weird furry fetish, leading him to receive a few  _ questionable  _ gifts in his locker from his many admirers (Felix had kept them as a joke, stored away in a box back at their dorm). Hyunjin had been  _ furious –  _ Seungmin had just sighed disappointedly while Felix had almost peed himself laughing – and retaliated by telling Jisung’s then potential prom-date about how he’d wet the bed when he was fourteen – which again, was also entirely Hyunjin’s fault, the fucker.

Of course, not all their interactions were restricted to playful, harmless rumours and pranks. Sometimes, very rarely, they took things too far. Those were the times when Seungmin, Felix, or Jeongin would have to get in between them to stop fists from flying. Those were the times where they  _ refused  _ to even be in each other’s presence, forcing their friends to create schedules that pleased them both – though they would complain about those too.

And those were the only times where either one of them would apologise.

Jisung remembered being seventeen, cheek stinging from where Seungmin had slapped him for using some  _ choice  _ slurs towards Hyunjin. He hadn’t even  _ meant  _ them, but Hyunjin had just made him so angry. God, he didn’t even remember what he had been angry about, but he remembered how he’d felt. He remembered just wanting to  _ hurt  _ Hyunjin. And it had been worth it… for all of two seconds. But the image of Hyunjin’s shocked and broken expression would forever be engraved in Jisung’s mind. It reappeared, conjured up occasionally, especially when those harsh words would threaten to spill from his lips again.

But at least things had been different after that. After Jisung’s soft – and a little forced – but sincere, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said,  _ I’m sorry.” _

They set boundaries then; limits to how far either of them would go to piss off the other. Sure, there were times when they fell outside of those boundaries, where they pushed the limit to it’s breaking point. But it was never to the point where they couldn’t come back from it.

They weren’t  _ friends  _ exactly.

Jisung couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be friends with Hwang Hyunjin, despite knowing each other for their whole lives. Jisung knew he was never seeing the full picture when it came to Hyunjin, though he was sure Hyunjin could say the same thing about him. They weren’t something as simple as acquaintances either. They knew way too much about each other – their relationship was very personal, albeit a bit unconventional and ridiculous.

They were stuck in this weird limbo where they didn’t  _ completely  _ hate each other, but they definitely didn’t like each other either.

If there was one thing Jisung was absolutely certain of, it was that fucking with each other was sort of their  _ thing. _

Yes, their friends hated it – their university friends especially, as Seungmin and Felix were more than used to it by now, after years of prolonged exposure – and there was no doubt it was annoying to be around the two of them when all they did was bicker and ridicule each other. But Jisung found that he  _ enjoyed  _ messing with Hyunjin.

There was just something about Hyunjin when he got riled up that Jisung found immense pleasure in. Hyunjin would puff out his cheeks and pout, glaring at Jisung as he tried to come up with a good insult while Jisung cackled at his failed attempts.

It was all but routine for them now. They’d try – barely – to just ignore each other. It should have been easy enough, if not for the way even the smallest things set them off. If Jisung didn’t  _ hate  _ the way Hyunjin chewed his food, or if Hyunjin hadn’t almost crushed his foot because Jisung wouldn’t stop bouncing his leg – even after Hyunjin had asked  _ oh so nicely  _ for him to stop. If it were anyone else doing these things – say, Minho or Chan – Jisung was sure he wouldn’t find them even half as annoying as he did, wouldn’t even care, and would maybe even find them cute.

But no, this was Hyunjin, and Jisung  _ refused  _ to find anything about that asshole  _ cute. _

Jisung couldn’t imagine what it must be like for their friends. He could admit that when they'd first entered university he’d thought he would finally be able to gain some freedom from Hyunjin and his insistent and loud presence, but  _ oh  _ how wrong he had been. 

Because while Hyunjin was the absolute devil towards Jisung, he was more than loveable to everyone else.

So of course he had charmed Jisung’s music composition tutor, Chan, after Jisung had invited him to go out with their group of friends for dinner. Of course he had joined the dance crew – he was a dance major after all, it only made sense, but Jisung was still bitter about it – and befriended Minho, yet another one of Jisung’s friends.

And just when he thought he’d  _ finally  _ made a friend – one just for him, away from Hyunjin’s evil clutches – in Seo Changbin, a fellow music production student in his second year, it turned out? He was Hyunjin’s roommate! Because  _ of course  _ he was.

There was no escape from Hwang Hyunjin, no matter how hard Jisung tried to get away from him.

Even now, as he walked across campus, the time just passing two in the morning – because he’d gotten so caught up in writing lyrics for an assignment he had due the next day – Hyunjin was there. Jisung would be able to spot that grey varsity hoodie anywhere with how much Hyunjin wore it.

Despite every instinct telling him to walk away, to just go back to his dorm and collapse, he stopped. It took him less than a minute to debate with himself about what to do as he watched Hyunjin’s figure in the distance. Something niggled at the back of his mind. Call it intuition. Or maybe he had just known Hyunjin for long enough to know that right now, something was wrong.

It could have been the slumped shoulders, the way his head hung low, the stuttering of his steps, that gave it away. It could have been all of these or none of them. Whatever gave it away – if anything did – Jisung knew he couldn’t just  _ leave. _

He sighed, stepping off his path and jogging to catch up with Hyunjin.

*

"Hyunjin," Jisung said as he finally caught up to him. He was slightly out of breath—seriously, fuck Hyunjin and his ridiculously long legs. 

Hyunjin froze, but only for a millisecond, before ignoring Jisung and continuing on his way. Jisung narrowed his eyes, picking up his pace so that they were walking side-by-side. 

"Yo, Hwang Hyunjin!" Jisung said, louder this time and not at all appropriate for two in the morning on a quiet campus.

_ "Not now."  _ Hyunjin muttered under his breath, though loud in the silence of the abandoned courtyard. His head was turned away so Jisung couldn't see his face. Sighing, Jisung stopped. He glanced around once before looking back to where Hyunjin was all but sprinting away from him. 

"Yah Hwang Hyunjin! I know you can hear me!" Jisung shouted, flinching at the way his voice echoed and bounced around in the silent morning air. He briefly worried about someone coming out to complain about the noise, but that thought was pushed out of his mind as Hyunjin spun on his heel to face him. 

"Just leave me alone!" Hyunjin shouted back, sounding like a completely different person with how hoarse his voice was. Wait, was he—?

"Shit—are you crying?" Jisung said, lurching forward without a thought. 

"Fuck off," Hyunjin said, softer this time. His tone was cutting, but it lacked the malice and intent it usually held. Hyunjin's eyes were red and puffy from crying, dried tear tracks running down his cheeks. 

It had been  _ years  _ since the last time he'd seen Hyunjin cry—even longer since  _ he  _ had been the one to make Hyunjin cry. And he meant truly cry. Because Hyunjin was still every bit the cry-baby he had been at eight years old, but it wasn't the same. There was a difference between the Hyunjin who cried over sad movies and sentimental songs compared to the Hyunjin who Jisung had seen with sobs wracking through his body, almost unable to breathe. Jisung took pleasure in Hyunjin's discomfort, in his annoyance and even anger, but he'd never taken joy in Hyunjin's pain

"Why are you crying?" Jisung asked, voice so uncharacteristically soft that he had to clear his throat and shake himself.

Jesus, Hyunjin's chest stuttered on every breath and Jisung pretended not to notice the tiny noises that left his throat. Who had done this? What could have possibly happened for Hyunjin to react this badly? Jisung could only remember one time where Hyunjin had ever broken down this badly, but that was so long ago and—

"I'm not," Hyunjin said, sniffing. It didn't help that he had to wipe the tears off his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. 

"Yeah, sure," Jisung scoffed. 

A voice—one that sounded a lot like Seungmin's—told him to be  _ gentle  _ and  _ careful.  _

Fuck that. 

Nothing between him and Hyunjin had ever been gentle or careful. Unlike the rest of their friends, they didn't treat each other delicately. Neither of them was made of glass and they both knew it. They took full advantage of the fact that they were both made of steel—it meant they could hit harder. Even now, Jisung couldn't treat Hyunjin like he was some fragile, breakable package. He didn't even know  _ how  _ to do that. So, he went with the approach that has always suited the two of them best. Straightforwardness. 

"Seriously, dude. What the fuck is wrong?" Jisung asked. 

"Jesus fuck—just leave me alone!" Hyunjin snapped, stepping towards him. 

Jisung jumped back in surprise. Hyunjin's eyes were so wide, anger and sadness so clear in the dull moonlight. His harsh expression shattered like glass and Jisung caught the way he closed his eyes, the way his features contorted into a heartbroken expression, before he smoothed it over and turned his face to the sky. 

_ "Why can't everyone just leave me alone?"  _

The question was spoken so softly, so intimately, that he knew Hyunjin was asking it more to himself than he was asking Jisung. He sounded so… broken. The kind of broken Jisung heard from himself in the early hours of the morning when his notebooks had been ripped to shreds and he'd snapped every single pen and pencil he had in half. It was all too familiar. 

"Everyone, huh?" Jisung asked  _ carefully.  _ Hyunjin huffed, shaking his head. Jisung pried further. "Who's everyone?"

" _ Don't _ pretend you care," Hyunjin barked.

Jisung's eyes widened as he took a step back. He'd become familiar with Hyunjin's many tones over the years. He could easily differentiate between  _ slight  _ annoyance and full-blown anger by the different quirks of Hyunjin's annoyingly perfect lips, or the tiniest inflection in his tone. But never, in their many years of knowing each other, had he ever heard  _ that  _ tone. 

And okay, sure they fought a lot. All the time. Nonstop. But that didn't mean Jisung didn't  _ care.  _ No, they weren't friends exactly, but Jisung would like to think that in the over fifteen years they've known each other he'd proven that he did care for Hyunjin—albeit in his own way. He swallowed back the bitterness clawing at his throat and schooled his expression into the familiar mocking one he usually used on Hyunjin when they argued. 

"Oh, but I do. I do care very much," Jisung said. Hyunjin narrowed his eyes as Jisung leaned forward. He smirked cockily, but it was painful. "You see, I'm the only one who gets to fuck with you. I can't have anyone else replacing me."

"Well sorry to break it to you, but there are people out there who do a  _ much _ better job of that than you," Hyunjin said around a watery laugh. He sniffed softly, and Jisung could tell he was struggling not to break down again. 

Vicious, irrational anger swarmed through him. His vision turned red and all he could imagine were those cruel comments—the ones that had been thrown at Hyunjin throughout his entire life—ripping down that carefully crafted armour that Hyunjin had built around himself—the armour Jisung had  _ helped  _ him build. He swallowed around the curses that threatened to spill out and dug his fingernails into his palms to keep him grounded.

"Point me in their direction, I'll set them straight," Jisung said, trying to keep his tone light and joking. Trying to sound like  _ himself  _ and not the snarling beast rumbling in his chest. 

"Look, I don't know what you're doing but please stop. I can't do this tonight, I  _ can't _ ," Hyunjin's voice cracked on the last word and so did Jisung's restraint. He took a deep breath, questions bubbling up that he knew he couldn't ask. 

He let out a harsh breath and tried for a sarcastic smile, though it probably came out more of a grimace. Hyunjin didn't seem to notice. 

"Fine."

Hyunjin sent him one last look before walking away in the direction of his dorm. He stopped short when he noticed Jisung trailing after him, not too far behind but enough to not crowd him. Hyunjin huffed and turned, trying to walk away. He stopped again when he realised that Jisung was still following him. 

"What are you doing?" Hyunjin asked. He didn't snap—Jisung didn't think he had enough energy to snap. He noticed then, Hyunjin's eyes were not only puffy and red. There were dark circles and bags forming.  _ When was the last time he slept?  _

"Going to the studio," Jisung said—a total lie. He had just left the studio after a nerve-wracking four hours of working on his assignment, but Hyunjin didn't need to know that. 

Jisung's dorms were on the other side of campus, but he couldn't leave Hyunjin alone. He wanted—no,  _ needed _ —to see him walk through those doors and get to his room. He'd probably text Changbin to see if Hyunjin had gotten in safely, though he knew Changbin would be confused. 

"At midnight?" Hyunjin asked doubtfully. Jisung huffed out a laugh at the tone in Hyunjin's voice. It's familiarity calmed him, if only slightly. 

"Yeah, inspiration comes when it comes, you know?" Jisung asked, and Hyunjin  _ did  _ know. Jisung knew—from both Seungmin and Minho's endless complaining—that Hyunjin was also someone who found inspiration in darkness. 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He continued walking, this time not stopping or caring that Jisung was following him. It was the way to the studio after all. It was when they finally reached Hyunjin's building that some of the anxiety left Jisung. Before Hyunjin could walk away, Jisung snatched the sleeve of his hoodie to keep him in place, not caring that it was slightly damp from his tears. 

Hyunjin looked at the hand on his arm with only mild disgust, not that Jisung could blame him. 

"Hey, Hwang Hyunjin," Jisung said, seriously this time. "Remember:  _ I'm  _ the only one who gets to mess with you."

"Whatever, Jisung." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, prying his arm out if Jisung's grip and heading inside without another word or even a glance over his shoulder. 

Jisung watched him go, the feeling of uneasiness and anger setting him ablaze again. He typed out a quick message to Changbin and sent it before stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He was halfway back to his dorm, buzzing with energy when he stopped. His heart beat rapidly, pounding against his ribcage. His hands shook so hard he had to ball them into fists. Without thinking, he drove his fist into a nearby lamppost. 

It was a testament to his own anger and the adrenaline coursing through his veins that he barely felt it. He was smart enough to use his left hand so it didn't affect his writing later. His knuckles were bruised by the time he was done. They'd become ugly and purple-blue. But he didn't care.  _ He didn't care.  _

He got back to the dorms around fifteen minutes later. Felix groaned from his bed when Jisung stomped about, changing his clothes and slipped into bed. He checked his phone to see a message from Changbin staring back at him. 

[ **02:27. Changbin-hyung]**

**He's fine. He came in and just went to sleep. **

**Did you guys get into a fight again?**

[ **02:41. Me**

* * *

**** ]

**No, hyung. **

**Nothing happened. **

He locked his phone before Changbin could reply, putting it on charge and leaving it on the bedside table. He shuffled around, trying to get comfortable but he was still shaking. He took a deep breath. 

_ He's okay. Changbin-hyung says he's okay.  _

He repeated it to himself, trying to block Hyunjin's broken expression out of his mind. Eventually he fell into a fitful sleep. 

_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so warnings for mild slut-shaming and non (?) graphic violence, mentions of blood. 
> 
> again, unbeta'd and to be edited later.

Jisung stood in the doorway of the dance studio, hesitant to step inside. He didn’t know what he was doing there… okay that was a lie.

He did know, but he also _ really _didn’t.

There was no reason for what happened the previous night to bother him as much as it did but still, Jisung couldn’t get Hyunjin’s wrecked expression out of his mind. It had haunted his dreams, waking him long before his alarm was set to go off. He’d laid in darkness, debating with himself on what to do.

Now there he was, looking for Hyunjin. What the fuck was he doing?

The dance studio was almost empty, but that wasn’t unusual. According to Felix, a lot of people had dropped out or switched classes after the gruelling first semester course, while Minho often complained to him that most of the younger dancers were overly confident, never practising as much as they should because they assumed they didn’t need to. He’d sat through countless, frustrated rants from Minho, he had memorised all of them by now.

The only reason Felix wasn’t in the studio today – the reason he hadn’t been there for the last two weeks—was because he’d sprained his ankle trying to perfect a move for his upcoming assignment. He had cried into Jisung’s shoulder for hours because _ I’m going to fail this course and my life is going to be ruined and I’ll have to go back home and this will all have been for nothing. _

And of course, Jisung wasn’t going to let that happened. And in the end, all it had taken was one call to Minho and a visit to the department head for get Felix a medical leave of absence until his ankle was fully healed and he could return to classes. For now, he was confined to their dorm, constantly whining to Jisung about having to study dance theory and do stretching exercises. But at least it was better than the alternative.

Minho was nowhere in sight when Jisung finally stepped forward and entered the studio. But neither was Hyunjin. That in itself, was unusual. 

Not in the many years Jisung had known him, had Hyunjin ever skipped a class. Not when he was sick or injured not when it was raining so hard he was drenched by the time he reached the studio. Not even that one time he’d left his own birthday party because he’d gotten an idea for his solo end-of-year performance.

Hyunjin lived and breathed for dance. There was nothing in the world he loved more—so why wasn’t he here?

“Hey Jisung,” one of the dancers—a friend of Minho’s, Jungkook—asked when he spotted Jisung craning his neck around. Why was everyone so goddamn _ tall? _“Are you looking for Minho?”

“Uh—no? Hyunjin actually,” Jisung said, cringing at his own awkward and unsure tone. 

Thankfully, Jungkook didn’t question why Jisung would be looking for Hyunjin. He was in his last year and fortunate enough to not know about their complicated relationship the way everyone else did.

“He didn’t come in today,” Jungkook said, his frown mirroring Jisung’s. “It’s weird. He’s usually the first one here, you know?”

And yes, Jisung did know. 

He had dozens of messages from Changbin, grumbling about how Hyunjin’s alarm always woke him at the most ungodly hours because Hyunjin always wanted to get in a few extra hours of practise before anyone else was at the studio.

“I’d say maybe he was sick, but you know that kid…” Jungkook trailed off, but Jisung understood what he meant. The knot in his stomach tightened until it felt as if he might throw up.

“I think he was called home for a family emergency,” Jisung said without thinking, and then quickly bit the inside of his cheek. _ Why _ was he lying and covering for Hyunjin? It wasn’t as if he would get into trouble for missing _ one _dance practise at the beginning of the semester, especially when he was one of the top students in the class.

But Jisung knew something wasn’t right.

“Oh, I hope everything’s alright,” Jungkook said. “You should tell him we miss him around here, it’s not the same without him.”

Jisung forced a smile. Those words should have made him feel better, knowing that there were people looking out for Hyunjin, but instead the feeling of dread spread further. Jisung was about to ask something else when another dancer – Yugyeom – called Jungkook’s name and waved him over. Jungkook glanced over Jisung’s shoulder, a bright smile forming on his lips.

“I’ll see you later, Jisung,” Jungkook said, stepping around him.

‘You too, Jungkook-ssi,” Jisung said politely, and Jungkook laughed at that. 

He shouted a _ call me hyung! _over his shoulder before jogging over to where Yugyeom was standing. Yugyeom threw an arm around his shoulders, and Jungkook laughed at whatever he said, leaning into Yugyeom’s side. Jisung watched them curiously for a moment before realising he was getting side-tracked.

He turned away and sighed.

This entire situation was so unlike Hyunjin, but after what Jisung had witnessed last night…

Who was this _ ‘everyone’ _ Hyunjin had mentioned?

It would not be the first time people had bothered Hyunjin for whatever reason. Hyunjin was the one person out of their friend group who was more than used to people talking about him – whether they were singing his praises and complimenting his beauty, or spewing their hatred and jealousy. But this time it was different.

This time they had made him _ cry. _The deep pain etched onto Hyunjin’s face the night before flashed through Jisung’s mind every time he closed his eyes. He couldn’t unhear the shaky tone of Hyunjin’s voice as it replayed over and over in his mind, mocking him.

Fuck, Jisung couldn’t even imagine what they had said, but it must have been worse than anything people had ever said in the past for Hyunjin to react that way.

Jisung was about to leave, go check the dorms or text Changbin and ask him where Hyunjin could be, when—

“I knew he wouldn’t show up today. What a fucking coward,” an unfamiliar voice rang through the room.

Jisung glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he caught sight of a group of dancers lounging in the corner of the room. Some of them stood, leaning against the wall casually, while others lazed on the floor, legs stretched out and posture loose. Their fashionable clothes—definitely not suited for dance practise—irked Jisung. Jisung knew that Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix _ lived _in their uniform of old sweatpants and t-shirts. None of these dancers looked as if they were actually going to be dancing.

Jisung silently crept along the wall, getting closer to the group but keeping a safe enough distance away so they wouldn’t notice him eavesdropping on their conversation. He took his phone out of his pocket and pretended to scroll through his message as he strained his ears to hear what they were saying.

“_ Please,” _another girl said, waving her hand around in the air. The smirk on her lips diminished the attractiveness of her face, made her look cruel. “He’s probably sucking Minho’s dick right now. You know that’s the only way he could’ve gotten into the advanced program right?”

Jisung’s blood turn to ice and he froze, the words not fully registering but ringing in his hears loudly.

_ No, _ he thought, _ they weren’t talking about _ him. _ They weren’t— _

“_ Everyone _knows. Have you seen him dance? How else would he have gotten in?” another boy said. Their mocking laughter could barely be heard over the roaring of blood in Jisung’s ears. He wished they would stop—if not for Hyunjin’s sake, then for their own, because if they didn’t…

“He likes to strut around here like he owns the place. I’m so glad someone finally put him in his place.”

Jisung’s hands unconsciously balled into fists. When he looked up, he caught them hi-fiving one of the boys sitting on the ground. Jisung had never seen him before, which was saying a lot because if he wasn’t in his own studio, he was there with Minho or Felix, and he’d memorised the faces of the dancers he regularly saw hanging around.

The boy had an air about him – maybe it was his relaxed posture, the way he was dressed, or the smug expression that grated on Jisung’s nerves - as if he thought he was the most attractive person in the room. He didn’t look remarkable, not nearly as unrealistically pretty as Minho or Hyunjin, and the ugly smirk on his face only served to make him look even less attractive.

“A guy like that? No doubt he’s been whoring himself out for who knows how long to get what he wants. He’s probably never had to work for anything in his life – not like the rest of us,” the boy said.

Jisung hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until his lungs were screaming for air and his throat burned. He sucked in a harsh breath, digging his fingernails into his palms to keep him tethered, but it was no use. He was slipping, his mind filled with nothing but images of blood and violence. That same beast from last night—the one he’d kept tame for years now, for the safety of both himself and others—was coming back to life. And god help him, just this once Jisung wouldn’t hold himself back.

He was about to turn and walk away, save himself the trouble of starting something that would end badly, but then the boy just _ had _to keep talking. And it was that last word that made Jisung snap.

“It must be nice being a _ slut. _”

Jisung moved before he could stop himself.

He was standing in front of the boy, pushing through the bodies and gripping onto the collar of the boy’s shirt and hauling him upright. The boy sputtered and tried to push him away, but Jisung kept a firm hold, fingers digging in so hard he could have ripped the fabric with one vicious pull.

_ “What the fuck did you just say?” _ Jisung hissed into the boy’s face. The question was unnecessary, as Jisung—and everyone else—had heard what he’d said. But he wanted to hear it again, to see if the fucker had the audacity to say it again when Jisung was _ this _close to ripping his head from his body.

“Dude, what the fuck?” the boy asked, still struggling in Jisung’s grip.

There were hands pulling at Jisung’s clothes, trying to separate them, but he shook them off roughly, pushing the boy forward and slamming his back into the wall. The boy groaned, the sound muffled by the confused and alarmed shouts ringing out around them. Jisung ignored it all, only focusing on the boy in front of him.

“I asked you a question,” Jisung said. He leaned forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. He couldn’t imagine what he must look like. Probably something akin to a snarling dog, ready to bite and tear skin. “_ Answer it.” _

The boy seemed to finally have gotten a good look at Jisung’s face and realised who he was, because his eyes widened, and his mouth formed that hideous smirk again.

“Wait—aren’t you Minho’s boy-toy?” he asked. Jisung didn’t really care what this asshole thought of him, but the next words that left his mouth had Jisung tightening his grip. “What, did you fuck Hyunjin too? That kid really gets around, huh?”

Jisung had heard those words so many times before, especially in high school. People had this tendency to think that because Hyunjin was beautiful and—seemingly—unattainable, drawing people in with his charms and smile, that he _ must _be promiscuous. 

Jisung would always be the first to laugh at that, because it always showed just how little they actually knew about the kind of person Hyunjin was. He’d seen Hyunjin cry—similar to the way he had last night—to Seungmin and Felix because he was exhausted, and he couldn’t take the rumours anymore, and he _just wanted them to stop._

They were unoriginal but nonetheless, still as horrifying as they had always been.

Jisung disliked Hyunjin for many reasons. He could make a chronological list of all his flaws, write a thesis on everything he hated about him. But he’d _ never _ thought those things, or even _ said _ them—except for that one night he refused to remember, and even then he hadn’t meant them. But to hear those familiar words come out of someone’s mouth after all this time, after Hyunjin had thought he was finally _ safe— _

Jisung let go.

He stepped back and the boy stumbled forward, laughing. He didn’t see it coming when Jisung’s fist connected with his face. He’d been aiming for the nose but got the cheekbone instead.

It didn’t matter.

He threw another punch, revelling in the sickening _ crack _ that resounded through the room as the boy’s nose broke beneath his fist. Blood dripped onto Jisung’s already bruised knuckles, but he enjoyed its warmth. It had been a long, _ long _time since he’d felt that sensation, and while he couldn’t say he had missed it, the feeling wasn’t completely unwelcomed.

He didn’t pause, grabbing onto the boy’s shoulder and pushing him down as he brought his leg up, ramming his knee into the boy’s gut. The boy groaned, stumbling away as Jisung let go of him. Jisung aimed a kick to his side, sending him sprawling onto the ground in an inelegant heap. He kicked him again, this time by his ribs, not satisfied. He wouldn’t be until he was sure he had broken—or at least cracked—a few ribs.

He was about to kick him again, when strong around locked around his waist and hauled him backwards. He didn’t struggle as whoever it was pulled him away, keeping his eyes on the boy who was lying and whimpering on the floor his cheek was already swelling, nose ugly and crooked, blood smeared across his face. He had a hand pressed to his side, was curled in on himself. The boy flinched as his friends dropped to his side to help him.

“Jisung, what the fuck were you thinking?” that was Jungkook. Jisung stayed silent, eyes still on the boy, vision still clouded red. “_ Jisung!” _

Jungkook stepped in front of him, blocking his view. Despite his words, Jisung could tell from his furious expression that he had heard everything that was said. Jisung glanced back and realised it was Yugyeom holding onto him. He slumped a little in defeat, knowing there was no way he would be able to get out of that.

“I’m so–” Jisung started to apologise but stopped.

He _ wasn’t _sorry. Not at all.

If anything, he didn’t get to inflict _ half _as much damage as he’d really wanted to. He wanted that kid in the fucking hospital, just like the last one.

No one was allowed to talk about Hyunjin like that, not Jisung, not anyone. And _ certainly _ not some random fucking kid who didn’t know fucking _ anything _ about him.

Jisung’s fingers twitched. He wished he could have racked his nails across the boy’s face and torn skin, drawn blood and left scars so that everyone would know just how ugly he really was, his deeds painted onto his face where they belonged.

“Just go,” Jungkook said, snapping Jisung out of his spiralling thoughts. When Yugyeom didn’t let go, Jungkook sent him a look over Jisung’s head. His sigh ruffled Jisung’s hair as he reluctantly loosened and removed his arms from Jisung’s waist.

“You’re letting me go?” Jisung asked, confused but more suspicious. He jerked his chin in the direction of the boy, “After I did that?

“I already called Minho.”

_ Shit. _

He was so fucked.

His alarm must have shown on his face, because Jungkook nodded, satisfied. “That’s what I thought. Now go before the instructor gets here, I can't cover for you then.”

Jisung didn’t know why Jungkook was helping him, but he didn’t question it. He didn’t have the _ time _to question it.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jisung muttered.

He stumbled towards the door, only looking back once to see Jungkook rushing over to the other boy. Yugyeom caught Jisung watching and sent him a glare, the message behind it clear.

_ Get the fuck out of here. _

And, as he had done so many times in the past –

Jisung ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> screamed at me on my twitter [@hwngjisung](https://twitter.com/hwngjisung?s=09)
> 
> or [cc](curiouscat.me/hwngjisung)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is ... messy, but yeah.
> 
> mentions of blood and violence, so if that makes you uncomfortable please do not read.

_ "Fuck,"  _ Seungmin said suddenly, jolting Hyunjin out of the daydream he'd been having. He lifted his head, looking at Seungmin curiously, but Seungmin eyes were glued to his screen, missing Hyunjin’s inquisitive gaze.

He was still in bed, dressed in the same clothes from the night before. He hadn't eaten yet for the day—his appetite was non-existent. Even the thought of trying to force something down nauseated him. The most he'd done today was brush his teeth and wash his face, but that was only after Seungmin had forced his way into the dorm and dragged him out of bed.

Hyunjin hadn’t told Seungmin what had happened—he couldn't even say the words out loud—but he didn't need to. Seungmin knew. Seungmin  _ always  _ knew. That's why he hadn't pressed. That's why he’d climbed into bed alongside Hyunjin and just held him close while he stared off at nothing.

Hyunjin was numb. He pressed his palms to the duvet, trying to feel the familiar softness of the cotton, or the loose threads that he hadn't fixed, but he felt nothing. His heart was beating steadily, but he couldn't  _ feel  _ it. He had to press a hand to his chest to make sure it was still there.

Seungmin sat up, typing quickly on his phone. Hyunjin frowned at the distressed look on Seungmin's face and the way he continuously ran a hand through his hair until it was a ruffled mess and he was the one who looked like he’d just woken up.

"What's wrong?" Hyunjin asked softly. Seungmin glanced at him, eyes softening but his expression didn't change.

"Jisung got into a fight," Seungmin said.

Hyunjin froze at the mention of Jisung's name.

Memories of the night before came flooding back with startling clarity. The footsteps he’d ignored approaching, Jisung calling his name, loud as a gunshot in the silence, the way Hyunjin had snapped at him. Those images played in his mind, quick snapshots of an even he’d rather forget.

He couldn't say he hated that Jisung had seen him cry. After all, it wasn't the first time—he doubted it would be the last. What he really hated was the  _ pity  _ that Jisung had tried so hard to hide but hadn't quite managed to. He didn't want anyone's pity—he certainly didn't want Han Jisung's pity—and he wished he could have just made the humiliating walk back to his dorm alone.

But at the same time… he didn't.

He'd known Jisung for long enough to know when he was lying. He'd lied about going to the studio—Hyunjin had known that was a lie the moment he said it because Minho had been complaining to Hyunjin about how Jisung hadn’t completed an assignment and how he was pulling an all-nighter to finish it not even an hour before—but he'd let him.

He didn't know why but it was…  _ comforting _ to have Jisung trailing behind him, not too close and not too far.

And Jisung had asked after him too. Changbin had been so surprised, running to Hyunjin to asked if anything had happened because  _ Jisung  _ had texted him about Hyunjin and he'd sounded  _ worried.  _ Hyunjin had doubted him at first, but then Changbin had shoved his phone into Hyunjin's face to show him the—multiple—messages. Hyunjin’s own confusion had only grown.

Everyone knew he and Jisung had a… complicated… history, to say the least.

_ Don't pretend you care,  _ he'd spat that at Jisung without thinking.

It had confused him at first, the way Jisung's eyes had widened and how he'd flinched away from Hyunjin, as the words physically hurt him. But as Hyunjin had lain in bed, surrounded by darkness, with only Changbin's snores floating around the room, he’d understood.

He and Jisung had spent their whole lives fighting each other, but as Jisung had said: it was their  _ thing. _

_ _

They knew the limits—what could be said and what shouldn't ever be mentioned. There were times when they weren't always considerate of those limits, when they went for the jugular and ripped each other to shreds. Hyunjin still had some metaphorical scars from those fights—he was sure Jisung did too. Hyunjin had never felt guilty for the things he'd said to Jisung, except for a few times where he wished he could take the words back.

And  _ that  _ was what made him understand. The fact that while he wanted to hurt Jisung, it was always only just for that moment. It was never Jisung's words that tore away at Hyunjin's armour. It was never Jisung's words that rang through his mind and kept him up late at night, second-guessing himself. It was never Jisung's words that caused panic attacks that forced him to lock himself in bathroom stalls for  _ hours,  _ just trying to breathe.

It was never Jisung that really hurt him.

So maybe Jisung did care—in his own way. The same way Hyunjin did, not that he would ever admit that out loud.

And it was because Hyunjin cared that he said, "He hasn't gotten into a fight in years."

He kept his tone nonchalant, as if he couldn’t care less. As if his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest because it could not be a coincidence. It never was when it came to the two of them.

And it was funny really. The last time Jisung had gotten into a fight was because of Hyunjin. Not with him, but  _ for  _ him. Seungmin and Felix didn't know that. No one did. And they never would. That was a secret he and Jisung—and the kid that had ended up in the  _ hospital _ —would take to their graves.

Hyunjin could still remember that night vividly, it haunted his dreams, creeping back into the forefront of his mind sometimes when he wasn’t making sure to push it away. Sometimes he wondered if Jisung thought at that night too, if he could also the dark red of the blood spilled and bones broken and pathetic and scared cries filling the air. He knew better than to bring it up to Jisung, as they’d both vowed to never mention it again—and to make sure no one else ever found out.

Thinking about that now, he wondered how he could ever think that Jisung didn't care. Was it unconventional? Sure. But it was comforting all the same. Even though it was rooted in violence and blood, there was a certain—different—kind of trust between them, something they didn’t have with their other friends.

"I know," Seungmin sighed, drawing Hyunjin out of his thoughts. He locked his phone and dropped it back onto the bed, settling back down. "I just don't get it. Why would he get into a fight with that guy?"

"What guy?" Hyunjin asked, though he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what Seungmin was going to say next, he just hoped he was wrong. 

He turned so he could face Seungmin. Seungmin leaned on one elbow, his other arm curled around Hyunjin's waist. He sighed again, tired. Hyunjin thought it must be exhausting to have to worry about all of them all the time.

"A guy from your dance class. Kim Junso, I think. I’ve never heard of him before," Seungmin said. He frowned as he looked up at the ceiling. "It just doesn't make sense."

Oh, but it did.

Hyunjin closed his eyes, sucking in a soft, sharp breath.  _ Jesus fucking Christ Jisung,  _ he thought. Hyunjin wanted to say Jisung wouldn't be dumb enough to do something like  _ that  _ again. He  _ wouldn't. _

Except, he would.

"Hyunjin—what?" Seungmin asked as Hyunjin fought his way out of Seungmin's arms and went looking for his shoes. "What are you going?"

"Nothing, just—stay here, okay?" Hyunjin said. He was out the door already, Seungmin calling out after him, but he didn't stop— _ couldn’t  _ stop.

He had to find Jisung.

*

It was only by chance that he managed to stumble onto Jisung.

His lungs were burning from the exertion, limbs trembling as his sneakers hit the old concrete. It was late in the afternoon and most of the student body was either in lectures or back at their dorms. He’d probably ran across the entire campus with no Jisung in sight, but he couldn’t go back to his dorm. He pushed through groups of students that glared at him, but he didn’t care. He  _ had  _ to find Jisung. Even if it took him all day he would find that  _ stupid  _ fucker.

He was on the outer part of campus, close to exit. There crowds thinned out until it was just his footsteps echoing across the empty courtyard, the same one he’d walked through last night, Jisung trailing behind him silently. He skidded to a halt when he saw a figure in the distance, crouched on a bench under a tree. Hyunjin narrowed his eyes, slowing down as he stalked forward. He could be wrong, but—

“ _ Han fucking Jisung!”  _ he shouted. The figure looked up and  _ yes  _ that was definitely Jisung. His eyes widened as he saw Hyunjin barrelling towards him with a furious expression. He jumped down from his perch on the bench, backing away slowly, holding his arms up like a shield. It was ironic really.

Even after all these years, they’d never gone further than a punch or two to the chin or shoulder. He’d seen Jisung rip people apart with an expression bordering on mania—Hyunjin himself had gotten into his fair share of fights before he’d decided to reform his image. And yet, there had never been  _ serious  _ physical altercation between the two of them.

“Hyunjin—”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he pushed Jisung, sending him stumbling back.

He glanced down and caught sight of Jisung’s bruised and bloodied knuckles. Nausea rolled through him, his stomach churning, bile rising in his throat. But there was also a sick sense of satisfaction as well. He forced himself to focus on Jisung’s face, trying to banish the image of his Jisung’s hands must have come to look at way.

“Again? We’re doing this  _ again _ ?”

Hyunjin didn’t have to clarify what ‘this’ was since they both already knew.

“Look, I didn’t mean to—” Jisung said.

Hyunjin snarled, pushing him again, harder this time and sending him stumbling a few steps back. Funnily enough, Jisung didn’t fight back in the way he usually would. That only infuriated Hyunjin more.

“But you still did it!” Hyunjin yelled.

He shoved at Jisung’s shoulder. Still Jisung just bit his lip and didn’t retaliate, his expression didn’t even change.  _ Fight back. Hit me. Do it.  _ Hyunjin  _ wished  _ Jisung would snap at him, give him an excuse to beat him the hell up for being such an  _ idiot.  _ When he realised Jisung wasn’t going to break, he let out a tired sigh, stepping back.

Jisung stared at him, unreadable expression in his eyes. One Hyunjin had only seen one other time—on  _ that  _ night. He hated that expression because he didn’t know what it meant. That, above all else, got to him, because Jisung was always so easy to read. But now—and back then—Hyunjin had no idea what he was thinking.

After a prolonged silence, Hyunjin finally broke.

“Why?” Hyunjin asked, voice cracking. “Why did you do this?”

_ Why now? Why again? Why did you even do it the first time? _

So many questions—questions he couldn’t ask. Didn’t want to ask.

Didn’t want to know the answers to.

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t just let him  _ say  _ those things about you,” Jisung said.

_ Oh god.  _ Hyunjin didn’t want to imagine what Junso had been saying about him to the other dancers. If it had been enough to make Jisung crack… Hyunjin shuddered. The words Junso had spat at him the day before weren’t any different from the shit Hyunjin had heard in the past.

_ Slut. Whore. Bitch. _

He was immune to them by now. But it hadn’t been the words that had broken him. It was the fact that he’d thought he would never have to hear them again. He thought he was  _ free  _ and  _ safe,  _ but apparently he wasn’t.

He didn’t know— _ doubted _ —if he would ever be.

“I can take care of myself—” Hyunjin tried, but this time it was Jisung who stepped forward and glared at him.

“Well, it didn’t look like you could last night,” Jisung sneered. “And you skipped practise?  _ You?” _

Sometimes he hated how well Jisung knew him. Hyunjin had made excuses to Minho, had emailed his instructor with some lie about needing the day off. He’d ensured that no one would notice his absence but of course Han  _ fucking  _ Jisung just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

(and some part of him, buried so deep down it could barely be seen unless you went poking and prodding, was secretly glad that  _ someone  _ had notice—had cared—even if it was Jisung. Or more, especially that it was Jisung).

“You can’t  _ fight  _ everyone who talks shit about me,” Hyunjin said, laughing humorlessly. Jisung would be fighting for the rest of his life if he decided to do that. Hyunjin was afraid it would kill him.

_ “Watch me,”  _ Jisung said.

Hyunjin froze, looking at Jisung carefully. His jaw was set but it ticked slightly; he was probably grinding his teeth. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and he looked ready to get into another fight, though with who, Hyunjin had no idea.

_ He couldn’t be serious. _

“We’ve already been through this,” Hyunjin said, despite the fact they were never supposed to mention it. Jisung glared harder at the mention of  _ that  _ but Hyunjin didn’t care _ .  _ Jisung needed to be reminded of the  _ consequences,  _ because back then he’d been a dumb teenager. He had so much more to lose now, and Hyunjin wouldn’t let him through it all away. Not for this. Not for  _ him. _

“I don’t regret that,” Jisung said, as if Hyunjin didn’t already know that. Jisung had said the same thing back then too. “And I don’t regret this either.”

“I don’t understand you,” Hyunjin said, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“What’s so hard to understand? I’m the only one allowed to mess with you. If anyone else says  _ anything  _ I will not hesitate to stop them. It’s as simple as that,” Jisung shrugged. Hyunjin stared at him in astonishment. There was hysterical laughter bubbling in his chest, but he knew that if he gave into it he would just end up crying.

“So what? Only you get monopoly on my pain?” Hyunjin scoffed.

“Have I  _ ever  _ caused you pain?” Jisung said and they both stopped.

They held eye contact for a beat too long, a long-forgotten memory passing between them. Jisung looked away first. Hyunjin didn’t stop staring at him.

“I’m not some damsel in distress that needs saving, Jisung,” Hyunjin said. “I  _ can  _ take care of myself.”

“I know that,” Jisung said, growling. “I just—I know  _ you _ . This stuff—what they’re saying it’s not okay. It’s never  _ been  _ okay. I didn’t put that kid in the hospital only to have to deal with this again.”

“You can’t protect me all the time,” Hyunjin said.

In a way, Jisung had always protected him. Jisung’s words annoyed, angered, frustrated, and even sometimes saddened him. But Hyunjin could count on one hand the number of times Jisung’s words had ever actually affected him. And yet somehow, unlike Seungmin and Felix—who cradled him when he cried, cuddled him until he felt better and kept him from completely falling apart—Jisung was the one to stand up for him. Jisung was the one to be there every time someone else had shit to say. It didn’t make sense. They were supposed to hate each other, weren’t they?

“Let me try.”

Hyunjin wanted to say no. He  _ desperately  _ wanted to say no, to tell Jisung to fuck off but… he was so tired. He was so tired of everything and everyone and this  _ fucking situation that never stopped. _

_ _

So, he said nothing.

*

"How bad was it?" Hyunjin asked.

They were sitting side-by-side on the bench Hyunjin had found Jisung on earlier. There was a large gap of space between them, and they made sure that not a single part touched.

When Jisung turned to him with a confused expression, Hyunjin gestured to his injured knuckles. They were swollen so badly, matted with dried blood and turning an ugly shade of yellow-purple that made Hyunjin's stomach turn.

It was a bit ridiculous. It wasn't that he was disgusted at the thought of Junso being hurt. No, it was the fact that  _ Jisung  _ got hurt. For him.  _ Again. _

_ How many times are we going to do this?  _ he thought again.

Jisung kissed his teeth loudly and Hyunjin's eyes snapped up from his knuckles to look at his face. Jisung eyed him knowingly. It made an angry flush spread across Hyunjin's cheeks and neck. He had to look away.

Why did Jisung have to know him so well? Why did he know that deep down Hyunjin was  _ happy  _ that he'd done this? Hyunjin wished he could have been there when it happened, wished he could have seen the bruises he knew would form on Junso's face after Jisung was done with him. It was sick, but he wanted it. Hyunjin didn't have any physical scars or bruises from his own attack. He didn't have proof or evidence of their words on his skin, but he was glad— _ so glad _ —that Junso did.

"It wasn't that bad. I mean, he's not on the  _ hospital  _ if that's what you’re thinking," Jisung said with a shrug, his eyes still boring a hole into the side of Hyunjin's head. Hyunjin couldn't look at him. "I broke his nose. Maybe cracked a rib. They pulled me away before I could do anymore damage."

"That's… good."

_ It wasn't. _

It was disgusting and vile but Hyunjin wished Jisung had done  _ more.  _ Did that make him a bad person? Maybe. Probably.

But at least he and Jisung could be bad people together because—

"I wanted to break his legs. I wanted to hurt him so badly he'd never be able to dance again."

"That's fucked up," Hyunjin said softly. Jisung snorted.

"Yeah, I'll just pretend you didn't want that too," Jisung said. Finally, Hyunjin glanced over to him. The knowing look was still there. "You don't have to lie to me, you know. It's okay to admit that you wanted him to hurt. It's okay, Hyunjin."

"Fuck," Hyunjin said, voice shaking. His hands were trembling at his sides.  _ "Fuck— _ "

He stood up quickly, almost falling back down again when his head spun so badly, he couldn't see. He needed to eat something, but his stomach was still tied in knots, his throat still clogged up. The thought of food had him tasting bile again.

"Why are you doing this, huh?" Hyunjin asked, rounding on Jisung, picking up their argument again even though he knew nothing would change Jisung wouldn’t change his mind, that much Hyunjin was sure of. "We hate each other. If anything, you should be  _ happy  _ they're saying that shit about me."

"I told you last night—"

"Oh right," Hyunjin laughed mockingly. " _ You're  _ the only one who gets to mess with me. How could I forget?"

Jisung didn't say anything to that, he just stared at Hyunjin, waiting. He  _ knew  _ this wasn’t the real reason Hyunjin was angry. Hyunjin hated that he knew that. Hyunjin hated him.

"I thought I was done with this, you know?" Hyunjin sniffed.

_ Fuck _ , he was crying now. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to stifle the pathetic sounds that crawled up his throat.

He fell back down onto the bench next to Jisung, burying his face in his sweater-covered hands. His shoulders shook with the force of trying to repress his sobs. He'd been holding his breath for so long and now his lungs burned. He gasped, trying to take in oxygen but he choked on a strangled sob.

"Breathe," Jisung said.

_ Fuck you,  _ he wanted to scream back but he could only wheeze. He wanted to snap that he was  _ trying _ but the words were stuck in his throat. He coughed around another sob. He pressed the heels of his palms harder into his eyes, not wanting the tears to fall.

His whole body shuddered as a hand touched his back.

He wanted Seungmin. Or Felix. Or Changbin. Or hell,  _ anyone else.  _ He wished it wasn't Jisung here with him. He wished it wasn't Jisung that got to see him break down completely— _ again _ . It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

_ "Breathe,  _ Hyunjin," Jisung said again.

Jisung was closer now, having shifted so that he was pressed up against Hyunjin's side. Jisung's hand rubbed comforting circles into his back, so soft compared to his tone.

Hyunjin wanted to shove it off. He wanted to push him away. But he couldn't. He couldn't and it was so pathetic. How low had he fallen that the one person who hated him the most was the one to comfort him now?

It took a few stuttering attempts before Hyunjin could properly draw in a deep breath. It was painful, the way his lungs expanded in his chest, as if his ribcage had collapsed in on itself, making his chest too small. Every breath after that physically hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt. The kind that reminded him he was still alive. In pain  _ yes _ , but alive.

Their words hadn't killed him. That was what he'd always told himself. Those words could hurt, and they cut deeper than any knife ever could, but they were just words. He could get over them.

And maybe he'd tell that to himself every day until he actually believed it.

But for now, all he could do was lean back into Jisung's hesitant touch. He felt the way Jisung went rigid next to him, could pinpoint the moment he told himself to relax, because his body went limp and he awkwardly draped his other arm over Hyunjin's shoulders.

"Why can't they just leave me alone?" Hyunjin whispered, more to himself than to Jisung.

Hyunjin felt more than heard Jisung's sigh.

"I don't know," Jisung said. "I really don't know."

Hyunjin didn't know how long they'd stayed like that, Jisung awkwardly wrapped around him. The sun was lower in the sky, and he vaguely thought he should probably call one of their friends to reassure them that he was still alive, but he didn't want to move. He was so tired. Sometimes he wished everything could just… stop.

He stared unseeingly at their surroundings, eyes tracking the movements of the leaves and how they danced in the soft breeze.

He wished he could dance like that. He wished he could just dance, right now. But when the thought of stepping into the studio surfaced in his mind, he shied away from it.

_ Not yet. _

As if coming out of a daze, he blinked back into reality. He had stopped shaking, but Jisung's hand was still on his back. He was tracing patterns now, making Hyunjin squirm. With a loud sigh, he gently pulled away and Jisung's arms fell off his shoulders. He already missed their warmth, but as with so many other things concerning Jisung, he would never admit that out loud.

"Sorry about that," Hyunjin said. He wiped face with his sleeves, coughing to clear his hoarse throat.

"It's fine," Jisung said, his voice so uncharacteristically gentle that it made Hyunjin uncomfortable. He didn’t  _ want  _ them to go back to screaming at each other in harsh and biting tones, but this… he wasn’t used to this.

"We should probably get back," Hyunjin croaked. He couldn't be around Jisung like this for any longer. "I ran out on Seungmin. He's going to kill me when I get back."

Jisung only nodded. He jumped up from his seat, dusting off his pants before he turned and held out a hand for Hyunjin to take. Hyunjin stared at it suspiciously. Jisung rolled his eyes.

"Don't think too much about it," was all Jisung said. "I'm just being nice."

_ You're never nice,  _ Hyunjin wanted to say but didn't.

Hyunjin eyed him but placed his hand in Jisung's anyway. Jisung pulled him upright, and Hyunjin had to admit that he was thankful. He didn't have the energy to even stand, but Jisung held him firm.

As if he already knew, Jisung loosened his hold on Hyunjin's hand but moved to grab his wrist, much like he had last night. Had it been any other time, Hyunjin would have ripped his arm away in disbelief, but now—

Now the numbness was creeping back in and Jisung's hand on his wrist held too-tight but it kept him tethered.

"What are you going to do? About your class, I mean?" Jisung asked as he dragged Hyunjin along, towards his dorm.

"Get a leave of absence I guess," Hyunjin said. "I just—I can't go back there. Not yet."

"I get it," Jisung said. "You and Lix can spend your break together. He'd be glad for the company."

Spending his days with Felix sounded like a good idea. Felix was one of his best friends, after all. Felix, more than anyone else, understood the pressure they were both put under at all times due to their major. But it was also because Felix had his own problems to deal with that Hyunjin didn't want to add himself to that list. Logically he knew Felix wouldn't mind, would be there for him in an instant if he needed it, but he was just  _ so sick  _ of bothering other people with his problems.

"Hey Jisung," Hyunjin said when they reached Hyunjin's building. "I never thanked you. For before. Or for now."

"You don't have to thank me," Jisung said, shaking his head. He let go of Hyunjin's wrist. Weirdly, Hyunjin almost missed the steadiness. "I'd gladly do it again."

_ I know. _

"Still," Hyunjin said, trying for a small smile.

_ "Thank you." _

They shared a look of understanding, a silent pact that they were already familiar with. Jisung wasn't Seungmin or Felix or Changbin or any of his other friends. Hell, Jisung wasn't even a friend. Hyunjin didn't know what he was. Not yet. But Hyunjin was glad he had him.

The moment passed and Hyunjin moved passed Jisung and stepped through the building doors. Jisung trailed after him silently. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not edited so, i'm sorry


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some small talk.

Hyunjin had nothing to do.

He sat on the windowsill overlooking the courtyard, staring blankly out of the window and watching as students milled about. He could’ve slept late and stayed in bed the way he’d been doing for the last few days, but that only made him feel guilty for wasting his time. Felix had texted him—multiple times—saying that Hyunjin could come over, but he’d always made up some excuse, gently brushing his friend off because he only felt like an annoyance. Had it been any other day, had it been a week ago, Hyunjin would’ve happily gotten up at the ass-crack of dawn, showered and ran down to the dance studio, staying there to practice for hours and hours until he couldn’t feel his limbs.

But not today.

Today—as it had been for the last week—even the thought of having to deal with Junso and the rest of his group of friends had Hyunjin’s entire body trembling, dread filling his chest until he could no longer breathe and he was on the verge of completely falling apart. Hyunjin hated that feeling, when his chest caved in on itself and it felt like he was dying as he tried to draw in oxygen. All he truly wanted to do was what he’d been doing the entire time—locking himself in his dorm and hiding from the world for the rest of his life.

He knew his friends were concerned, but his head was too messed up to give them any false reassurances about how he was okay, how he was coping, and how he’d be back to normal soon enough. He  _ wasn’t  _ okay, he  _ wasn’t  _ coping, and he had absolutely no idea when—or if—he would ever be able to get back to whatever normal had been for him before this mess happened.

Now he was stuck with too much time on his hands. Almost three months to be exact. That’s what his instructor had told him after accepting Hyunjin’s request for a leave of absence. Of course, he didn’t have to stay away for the entire duration of his leave, but it was encouraged that he take all the time he needed to recover from whatever had prompted his absence.

He sighed, standing from his seat and stretching, his joints cracking. His back ached from the horrible pose he’d been sitting in for the last half an hour, and he flopped down on his bed with a groan. He’d have to stretch later, he knew. He might be on a break, but that wasn’t an excuse to lose the current condition his body was in because it would be hell and take forever to try to get it back.

On the bed across from his, Changbin looked up from where he had been tying his shoelaces and fixed Hyunjin with a half-amused, half-concerned expression.

“Since you have nothing else to do,” Changbin said, moving onto his other foot, “why don’t you come with me to the studio?”

Hyunjin turned his head to look at Changbin with wide eyes, to which Changbin rolled his eyes, but Hyunjin could make out the smallest of smiles on his lips.

“Come on, I’m sure hyung won’t mind,” Changbin said.

Chan was too generous for his own good sometimes, always allowing them to bother him even when he needed to get work done. Hyunjin would feel guilty about crashing their studio session had he not been itching to leave the dorm and do something,  _ anything,  _ that wasn’t sitting around and being plagued by his own thoughts.

“If you’re sure,” Hyunjin said, but he was already on his feet, changing into a different outfit before Changbin could say anything more or retract his offer. Hyunjin was—well, not happy—relieved to be able to get out for a few hours and just not think for a while.

"Let's go," Hyunjin said, standing by the door. He turned to find Changbin completely entranced as he typed something out on his phone, a small smile on his face.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. He knew that smile all too well.

"Binnie-hyung  _ let's go _ , you can talk to Seungminnie on the way," Hyunjin said, grabbing onto Changbin's arm and dragging him away. 

Changbin screeched in protest, fighting his way out of Hyunjin's grasp, smacking his hand away when Hyunjin tried to grab him again. Hyunjin stuck his tongue out at him as Changbin shot him a glare.

"Yah, brat!" Changbin said as Hyunjin ushered him out of the room and locked the door behind them. "And anyway, who said I was talking to Min, huh?"

"Sure, hyung," Hyunjin laughed, rolling his eyes. 

Changbin squawked in indignation but Hyunjin ignored him.  _ Everyone  _ inside and outside of their friend-group knew all about Changbin and Seungmin’s relationship. Hyunjin didn’t know if they were officially dating, but from the way things looked there was no way they weren’t.

The music department was not far from their dorm building, as it was chosen for Changbin's convenience after all. Changbin, along with Chan and Jisung, often pulled all-nighters, came and went from the studio at odd hours, so it only made sense for them to stay so close.

As Hyunjin had anticipated, Changbin's eyes and thumbs were glued to his phone for the entire short walk to the studio, typing out rapid replies to every text. It was funny really, because usually Changbin was the worst at responding to texts from anyone.

But Seungmin wasn't anyone. At least not to Changbin.

They reached the studio, and Hyunjin entered without knocking, so accustomed he was to being there. He laughed as Changbin tripped on his way in because his eyes had  _ still  _ been on his phone screen, and turned to greet Chan.

"Hey Channie‐hy—oh," Hyunjin greeted but then froze in the doorway.  _ Fuck. _

_ _

Hyunjin had  _ not  _ been prepared for the sight of Jisung, lounging in the seat alongside Chan, dressed in an oversized sweater and ripped jeans, eyes focused intently on Hyunjin. Hyunjin hadn't seen Jisung since he'd walked him back to his dorm almost a week ago, narrowly avoiding Seungmin's wrath by escaping and leaving Hyunjin to fend for himself.

Chan turned in his seat and smiled when he spotted Hyunjin. Hyunjin was too preoccupied, trying to read Jisung’s expression to smile back. He was shocked out of his frozen state by Changbin gently shouldering passed him to get into the room. Hyunjin shook his head, averting his gaze from Jisung—who was still staring at him—and made his way to one of the couches.

It was known to everyone in the department that Chan, Changbin, and Jisung  _ lived  _ in that particular studio. That was the reason they’d been afforded the luxury of moving things around and arranging them as they pleased. There were two large, brown leather couches placed next to each other, pressed up against the far wall.

"Hyunjin didn't have anything else to do, so he's going to join us today. That's okay, hyung? Jisung?" Changbin asked, but there was an underlying tone of  _ it better be okay or else.  _ But Hyunjin knew it was unnecessary because they all already knew what the answer would be.

"Of course, it's okay," Chan said. 

He directed a dimpled smile at Hyunjin, one he returned genuinely, because how could you  _ not  _ smile back at Bang Chan? Chan always had the sunniest disposition, especially when it came to his friends. It was something Hyunjin, and everyone else always took comfort in, Chan’s unwavering and supportive presence.

Hyunjin made himself comfortable while Changbin went to sit at Chan's other side. Jisung wasn't looking at him anymore, for which he was thankful. He didn’t feel like squirming under Jisung’s inquisitive gaze for the rest of the afternoon, he’d already escaped that with Seungmin.

"How are you feeling today, Jinnie? I heard you're taking a break," Chan asked after a few minutes of silence had gone by.

Hyunjin froze, his eyes jumping to Jisung, who was already looking at him. Jisung shook his head minutely, and Hyunjin let out a small breath of relief, before forcing himself to relax. Only Jisung knew the  _ real _ reason Hyunjin was taking a break.

"I'm fine, hyung," Hyunjin said, trying to muster up some earnestness into his tone, but he didn’t think he was that convincing.

Chan stared at him for a long time, his gaze seeming to pick up on every minuscule crack in Hyunjin's facade, but thankfully he didn't make a comment. He nodded, giving Hyunjin another, more reassuring, smile as if to say  _ I won't pry but I'm still here.  _ Hyunjin nodded back.

His gaze shifted from Chan back to Jisung, who had yet to look away. Hyunjin narrowed his eyes, not saying anything and hoping his annoyance was evident in his gaze. Jisung finally looked away, turning to point something out to Chan on whatever they were working on as if he hadn’t been boring holes into Hyunjin’s face moments before.

Hyunjin toed off his shoes and tucked his feet under his body. He curled up into a ball, taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through his playlist. He connected his earphones, turning them up to the highest volume, blocking out everything else and hoping the music would be enough to drown out his thoughts. It didn’t help that Jisung was there as well, a giant reminder of what he was trying to escape.

He picked a song and sighed as the first note rang through the speakers. His body relaxed, shoulders slumping and head falling to the couch cushion. It was a piece he’d often practised to, and did nothing to help the nostalgia building inside him. It was a bit ridiculous the way tears sprung to his eyes, and he had to quickly blink them away. Watching the way the three in front of him worked together only made Hyunjin miss dancing even more. They were doing what they were made to be doing, Hyunjin only wished he could do the same.

He slumped down further in his seat, and for a while, he stared at nothing until his eyelids became heavier the longer the song went on. It wasn't long until he was falling asleep to the soothing sound of one of his favourite piano pieces.

*

Hyunjin opened his eyes, vision blurry as he woke from his impromptu nap. He blinked a few times until his surroundings came into focus. He yawned, unfurling from the ball he'd been in and stretched. His bones snapped and cracked back into place and he knew he'd have to spend an hour stretching tonight. His body was warm, skin fuzzy and tingling, the feeling not entire unpleasantly. He felt more well rested than he had in the last few days, mind hazy and free of dark thoughts.

He startled when he stretched again, biting back a scream when his hand met something soft and fluffy. He jerked forward, spinning around in his seat, now fully alert. Thankfully, it was only Jisung, eyes half open, a disgruntled expression on his face. They stared at each other for a moment before Hyunjin looked away, noticing the absence of other bodies in the room.

Chan and Changbin were nowhere to be seen, but Hyunjin was comforted by the fact that Chan’s laptop was still on the coffee table and Changbin’s jacket slung over his chair.

"Where did hyungs go?" Hyunjin asked, his voice scratchy. Jisung’s eyes were closed when Hyunjin looked at him again, ignoring the way he looked oddly peaceful.

"They went to get some food," Jisung said. His voice was deeper, a low rumble in Hyunjin's ears. He must have taken a nap too.

"How long have I been asleep?" Hyunjin asked. He yawned again and rubbed at his eyes until he saw stars. He paused his music, taking his earphones out and setting them on the couch.

"Two, maybe three, hours," Jisung said, peeking one eye open to look at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's eyes widened and he checked his phone. There were a few texts from Seungmin, Felix, and Minho but he didn’t have the energy to reply so he left them to be answered later. True to Jisung's word, Hyunjin had slept for two and a half hours. He dropped his phone back into his lap and laid back.

He sprung forward again when he felt something solid against his back.

He turned to find that Jisung had his back towards him, so they both leaned against the arms of the couches, their shoulders touching. Jisung eyed him over his shoulder, annoyed by the disruption. Hyunjin was about to snap, but he swallowed down the resort and instead turned back around. His shoulders were still pressed against Jisung's, and while it was an unfamiliar sensation, he didn't hate it.

They lay in silence for a while, both still waking up. Hyunjin was close to falling back asleep when Jisung spoke up.

"What are you listening to?" Jisung asked softly.

Hyunjin frowned to himself, wondering why Jisung would care about something so trivial. The two of them never made small talk, for good reason. They were always either fighting or ignoring each other.

"Uh—" Hyunjin unlocked his phone and checked the last song he had been listening to. "Half-Moon by Dean."

"Oh?" Jisung said, and this time he was the one to disrupt their position.

Hyunjin grunted as he fell back, head resting on the arms of the couches and he found himself looking up at Jisung, who was now sitting cross-legged and facing him. Jisung leaned forward, towering over him. His hair fell over his forehead, framing his face. The light shining down on him almost made it look at if he were glowing.

"What?" Hyunjin asked, defensively, trying not to squirm. Their position was too intimate, his head almost in Jisung’s lap.

"Nothing, it's a good song—"

"It's a  _ great  _ song," Hyunjin interrupted but Jisung ignored him.

"—I just didn't expect you to have taste."

Hyunjin gasped in faux indignation. He jerked upright, mirroring Jisung's position so they were both facing each other. Hyunjin tucked his hands under his thighs, leaning forward as well.

"What did you expect me to listen to then?" Hyunjin asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Jisung, genuinely curious.

He never really knew what Jisung thought of him— _ if  _ Jisung thought of him at all.

"Honestly? I don't know—maybe country? EDM?" Jisung said and Hyunjin barked out a laugh. That was so  _ far  _ from the answer he’d been expecting, and he didn’t know if Jisung was being serious or just trying to break the tense mood. Either way, Hyunjin didn’t dare ask and instead just went with it.

"Who do you think I am? Channie-hyung?" Hyunjin asked. Jisung cracked a smile at that.

"He does have the worst taste, doesn't he?" Jisung said. Hyunjin smiled but quickly smothered it before Jisung could catch it, though there was no way he didn’t with the way his gaze had yet to leave Hyunjin’s face.

“What about your taste?" Hyunjin asked, clearing his throat and trying to divert Jisung’s attention elsewhere.

This was such unfamiliar territory, the two of them having a civil conversation. Hyunjin didn’t count that afternoon from a week ago, as that had been under intense distress and Jisung had been the only one around. 

Now… now it was different. He didn’t know how to navigate this new land, and for once, he was afraid he would say something wrong and ruin the atmosphere.

Jisung raised his eyebrows, probably not having anticipated the question. Instead of answering, he smirked and took out his phone, unlocking it and tapping on the screen a few times. He held it out towards Hyunjin along with his other, empty hand. When Hyunjin just frowned, Jisung rolled his eyes.

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Jisung said.

He held his phone out more insistently. With a loud sigh, Hyunjin took Jisung's phone and placed his own in Jisung's palm.

Jisung had already opened his music player and Hyunjin scrolled through his most recent playlist. He was surprised to find that their music taste was quite similar, other than a few international artists that Hyunjin knew were popular but didn't really listen to. Across from him, Jisung made a small noise of surprise.

"It's kinda ... scary how similar our playlists are," Jisung said, voicing what Hyunjin was already thinking.

"I mean, I change my playlist according to my mood," Hyunjin said. He had about fifteen different playlists that he had painstakingly arranged over the last few years.

A small, strangled sound left Jisung, startling Hyunjin.

"So do I," Jisung said, though it sounded like it pained him to admit. Hyunjin stared at him. He wanted to say that he wished Jisung was joking but based on his wide-eyed look and the way lips rounded into a small 'O', Hyunjin knew he was serious.

“Huh," Hyunjin said. It was…  _ strange  _ that he and Jisung had something so trivial in common. It was strange that they had  _ anything  _ in common.

"So if your playlist is based off your mood… " Jisung trailed off but Hyunjin knew what he was trying to say.

At the moment, Hyunjin’s playlist was depressing to say the least. It was then that he realised that he’d once again exposed his vulnerabilities to Jisung without a second thought. Why was it always Jisung? He silently cursed himself for his own carelessness.

"Are you—I mean, I know you're not  _ okay  _ but… How are you?" Jisung asked, and Hyunjin would have found it cute had the question not bothered him so much.

He’d heard it so often – from Minho when he came over to visit, from Felix and Seungmin when they hung out, and every morning and night from Changbin – he  _ hated  _ it.

_ Since when do you care?  _ Hyunjin almost spat.

He swallowed down the words on the tip of his tongue. Jisung wasn't looking for a fight, Hyunjin knew that. But the instinct was always there when it came to the two of them. Years of conditioning themselves to feel annoyance at everything the other did or said.

He could lie—even though he knew Jisung would see right through that, the way he  _ always  _ did—but he didn't  _ want  _ to. He wanted to tell someone, but he hated feeling like he was burdening them with his problems. He wasn't in high school anymore; he should know how to deal with them on his own.

Before he could even think of an answer, Jisung shifted until his back was towards Hyunjin again. Hyunjin frowned at the back of Jisung's head. What was the point of asking if—

"I thought it would be easier," Jisung said, glancing over his shoulder once before looking away, "if you didn't have to face me."

Hyunjin stared at him in astonishment. He didn’t know why it surprised him that Jisung somehow understood exactly what he needed.

He swallowed thickly, turning around in his seat until he faced the wall. Jisung's shoulders dug comfortably into his middle back. Hyunjin would never admit that he enjoyed the warmth from Jisung’s body, having a firm and steady presence against him made things feel better, made  _ him  _ feel better. It reminded him on Jisung’s hand on his wrist, dragging him along, holding on tight enough to keep Hyunjin from slipping too far into his own thoughts.

"You know," Hyunjin started and Jisung hummed. It vibrated against Hyunjin's back, almost pleasantly. "You're fifty percent less annoying when I can't see you."

Jisung laughed, and while it was soft, the sound echoed through the quiet room. Jisung’s laugh—his  _ genuine  _ laugh—wasn't something Hyunjin got to hear often, much less be the cause of, but it didn't grate on his nerves the way it usually would. He must be really tired to be thinking this way.

"I'm—I don't know," Hyunjin admitted. He lifted his hands to his face, pressing his palms into his eyes until he saw nothing but darkness.

"It's like I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. I worked so hard for this and I'm letting them just take it away from me. I should—I should be able to go to that fucking class and ignore them, but I  _ can't.  _ I can't and I'm so fucking pathetic because this isn't even the first time this happened, and I  _ still  _ let it get to me."

He let out a long breath, empty now that those words were finally out in the open. His heart felt both heavier and lighter. He was glad to have told someone, to be able to get it off his chest and no longer bear them alone. But with them out there for the world—for Jisung—to hear, it only made everything more real. The situation hung over his head like a dark storm cloud, raining down on him until he was cold and numb.

"Hyunjin," Jisung said, and Hyunjin was shocked by the cold tone of his voice. "It doesn't matter if it's the first time, or the second time. Even if it's the  _ hundredth  _ time. It's still not okay. It will never  _ be  _ okay—"

_ "Jisung,"  _ Hyunjin said, dropping his hands and stopping him. He couldn’t take any more—any more of the situation, of his thoughts, of Jisung’s words that should’ve made him feel better but only made him feel worse.

Jisung seemed to understand— _ why did he always understand? _ —and he heard Jisung's jaw click shut, felt the deep breath he took shudder against his own back.

"Can we please talk about something else?" Hyunjin asked, voice pleading. Jisung was silent and unmoving for a while, and Hyunjin was afraid he would try to breach the subject again, but thankfully he didn’t.

“What do you want to talk about?" Jisung asked.

Honestly, Hyunjin didn't know. He didn't want to talk at all.

"Can we just listen to some music?" Hyunjin asked, shifting in his seat until one of his shoulders was pressed against Jisung’s. He pulled his sleeves over his hands and tucked them between his legs. He hadn’t realised he was shaking until Jisung pressed closer, trying to calm him. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Jisung, but for once Jisung wasn’t looking at him.

"Sure," Jisung said softly, head still turned away.

He stood up and Hyunjin immediately missed his warmth. Hyunjin avoided looking at Jisung, instead focusing on the old, worn leather of the couch. When Jisung sat down again, he held out a pair of headphones for Hyunjin to take—they were attached to a dual adapter plugged into Jisung's phone. Hesitantly, Hyunjin placed them over his ears and waited for Jisung to pick a song.

He smiled when he heard the first notes of a familiar song. His favourite song.

How did Jisung know? Or maybe he didn't, and it was just a coincidence. Maybe Jisung liked this song too. Maybe this was another one of the many things they seemed to have in common that Hyunjin had not been aware of. Whatever the reason, Hyunjin didn't question or comment on it.

He settled down further into his seat. Next to him, Jisung shifted until their shoulders were pressed together. Jisung’s warmth seeped through the fabric of Hyunjin’s clothes, and Hyunjin once again silently admitted that he enjoyed the feeling. Unlike he usually would, Hyunjin didn't move away from Jisung, and instead he pressed closer, just slightly. Jisung froze for a moment, having not expected that, but he eventually relaxed.

They stayed like that, both dozing off, until Chan and Changbin came back. At some point, Jisung's head had fallen onto Hyunjin's shoulder, and as if compelled, Hyunjin had laid his cheek on Jisung's head as well.

Chan and Changbin shared a look but didn't have the heart to wake them. And maybe later, when they woke up, still leaning against each other, they both blushed lightly and quickly moved away.

Neither of them said a word to each other for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> barely proofread so there are probably mistakes, I'm sorry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> role reversal.

Jisung's eyes were drooping, slowly falling shut, his body tilting forward. The words in front of him were blurring together, an unintelligible mess he was too tired to decipher. A yawn was building in his throat, but he swallowed it, his eyes watering. He blinked a few times, but that did nothing to alleviate the heaviness of his eyelids. Before he knew it, his eyes were closed and he had almost drifted off when Chan's voice shattered the silence of the studio. 

"When was the last time you slept?" Chan asked. That had been the third time Jisung had almost dozed off in the last ten minutes. 

Jisung's eyes snapped open and he jerked uptight, his vertebrae cracking as he finally unfurled from the curled position he had been in for the last few hours. Chan stared at him, his expression half amused, half concerned. 

_ Oh no.  _

Jisung hated worrying Chan—he hated worrying anyone, but he  _ especially  _ hated worrying Chan. Chan had enough things to worry about, Jisung didn't need to be added to that list. He knew that as much as Chan liked helping people, especially his friends, it could become tiring after a while, and it wasn't as if Jisung's problems were that important to begin with. 

So he kept it to himself. He kept it to himself that he hadn't slept in  _ days _ —not more than one or two hours at most. He kept it to himself that he'd worn the same outfit for three days in a row and that he couldn't remember the last time he'd showered, and that God, had he even had breakfast? 

That wouldn't just worry Chan, that would send him into cardiac arrest. 

Jisung cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes. 

"I took a nap earlier." That was a lie, but Chan didn't need to know that. 

Chan had been missing for most of the afternoon. Jisung had no idea where Chan had gone or what he'd been doing, but he hadn't asked, not wanting to pry, dismissing his own curiosity. Chan kept his life open for them to see at all times, rarely keeping things from them—if he ever did at all—but when he did, Jisung knew better than to pester him about it. After all, Jisung was keeping his own secrets, wasn't he? He had no right to demand things from Chan. 

"Why don't you go back to your dorm? We can finish this up tomorrow," Chan said. 

Jisung suppressed a groan, recognizing the finality in Chan's tone. He knew it would be futile to fight him, but he tried anyway.

"It's fine, hyung. I promise. And I need to redo this piece," Jisung said. 

He stifled another yawn, because that would no doubt lead to Chan physically picking him and carrying him back to his dorm. Though he didn't know who he was trying to fool, as Chan knew all the signs of exhaustion and Jisung was sat there looking like he was about to collapse and sleep for years. 

And  _ fuck  _ professor Kim for making Jisung redo this assignment—though he should be happy he was even allowed to resubmit, because had he not been the top in his class, he was sure his professor would have just failed him. But he didn't understand. That assignment had been  _ perfect.  _ He had followed every instruction down to the letter, so  _ why was he doing this?  _

"Sung," Chan said, snapping his fingers in front of Jisung's face. Jisung jerked again, having been unaware that he'd zoned out. 

"Sorry, hyung," Jisung said. 

He blinked until his vision cleared and Chan's face came into focus. His concerned expression had intensified, brows furrowed, frowned deepened so much Jisung was afraid the wrinkles would become permanent. It made Jisung's stomach churn in guilt. 

"I'm fine."  _ I'm not. I'm really not. _ "I swear." 

Chan looked like he knew Jisung was lying—hell, he probably did—but he knew Jisung well enough to know that if he pushed any further, Jisung would pull away. He would crawl back into that shell where he didn't speak at all, and that would be counterproductive.

So instead Chan clenched his jaw, forcing a somewhat reassuring smile onto his face even though they both knew it was fake. Jisung could see through Chan the same way Chan could see through him. 

"You know I'm always here for you right?" Chan asked, as if Jisung didn't know, as if he hadn't been there for some of the worst times of Jisung's life. As if Jisung hadn't heard those words so many times before. 

The only difference between then and now was that for once he didn't breakdown and collapse into Chan's waiting arms, even though he desperately wanted to. 

"I know, hyung," Jisung said, forcing a smile a smile as well. "Thank you." 

Jisung turned his attention to his untouched notebook, already cringing at the thought of trying to write anything down. He hadn't been able to produce anything but mediocre and overdone melodies for  _ days  _ and he was so close to just ripping his notebook to shreds. He reached for the pencil lying on the table, but stopped, his fingers hovering over it. The anxiety that washed through him at the sight of that pen would have been laughable and ridiculous had it not made Jisung's chest clench. 

"Jisung-ah?" Chan asked when Jisung had been frozen for too long. 

_ Shit.  _

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, and took a deep breath. He knew if he stayed in the studio any longer, he would eventually crack and breakdown, spilling his worries onto Chan the way he always did. But he couldn't do that, not this time. 

"You know what, hyung?" Jisung said, dredging up the last bit of energy he had and forcing some cheerfulness into his tone, but it was obvious to both that he was faking it. 

He stood, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans and grabbing his notebook and pen with trembling hands. He clutched them tightly, knuckles gaunt and white. 

"I think you're right. I really should get back to the dorm, Lix is probably worried. You know how he is?" Jisung said, avoiding Chan's eyes, looking at him in his peripheral vision. 

He saw Chan narrow his eyes but again— _ thankfully— _ he didn't comment. He just hummed, looking away from Jisung and back to his laptop. 

He was giving Jisung an escape. Jisung wanted to cry out of relief, wanted to thank him for being so goddamn understanding, but he couldn't do that without giving himself away. 

Jisung shuffled away, clutching his notebook to his chest as he made for the door. When he rested his hand on the doorknob, he stopped. Behind him, Chan had stopped typing, as if he too was waiting for Jisung to turn back around and talk to him. 

_ I could tell him,  _ Jisung thought, hand still hovering over the doorknob.  _ He'd understand. More than anyone else, he'd understand.  _

Jisung turned, words already on the tip of his tongue but they died when he found that Chan was already looking at him. He froze for a millisecond, afraid that Chan was about to call him out, that he was about to say something—and it would take barely anything—that would make Jisung break down, but he didn't say anything. 

He just stared, waiting. There was hope in his eyes, and pleading too. 

Jisung swallowed the words, his lips crooking up into a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, hyung."

He pretended not to see the disappointed look that came over Chan's face before he smoothed it over with another smile. 

"See you," Chan said. 

Jisung could see the way his foot tapped against the floor, the way he held on tightly to the arms of his chair as if to hold himself back from surging forward and dragging Jisung into a comforting hug. Jisung told himself that he was glad that Chan didn't do that. 

Jisung forced himself to step out of the room and closed the door before he could change his mind. He let out the breath he'd been holding, almost falling to his knees under the mixture of relief and exhaustion. If he could, he'd go back to his dorm just as he'd told Chan he would, but that  _ feeling  _ was still there. It was always there these days, swirling around in his chest and lying dormant until Jisung was alone and then it was crawling up his throat, clawing at his sanity. 

It kept him up at night. It was the reason he hadn't slept in days. The reason he felt close to vomiting every time be picked up a pen. The reason food turned to ash on his tongue. 

_ You're not good enough. You'll never be good enough. What made you think you could do this?  _

He just wanted it to stop—he wanted  _ everything  _ to stop, for a moment so he could catch his breath. It was suffocating, but he didn't know how he was supposed to pull himself out of the waves that continued to crash over him. He couldn't save himself, he knew that. 

Did he even want to be saved?

Jisung pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle any sound that may escape him. He swallowed the bile in his throat, pressing his hands to the wall and standing up straight even though his knees were threatening to buckle under him. His hands were shaking—his whole body was shaking—but he had to get away. He had to just  _ be  _ somewhere else. 

His legs were moving before he'd even decided on a destination. He moved on autopilot, not fully taking in his surroundings as he went. Before he knew it, he was pushing through the doors of one of the smaller, more private dance studios. He visited it often with Minho and Felix when they stayed up late to practice. He only hoped that Minho wasn't there now—because he was almost worse than Chan and he wouldn't let Jisung go so easily. 

But when Jisung looked up, he found that luck was not on his side. Not at all. 

"Jisung?" 

_ Fuck. Of course. Of course it just  _ had  _ to be him.  _

Hwang Hyunjin was sitting in the centre of the room, his hair sweaty and unkempt, his cheeks flushed red, his shirt was drenched in sweat. He stared at where Jisung stood, barely holding himself up if not for the door at his back. He must have picked up on Jisung's distress, because his eyes widened and he stood, rushing over. Or at least he tried to, but Jisung held out a trembling hand, stopping him. 

"No—!" Jisung shouted before he could stop himself. Hyunjin stopped short a few feet away from him. "Just don't—please don't."

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" Hyunjin asked, with genuine concern in his voice as well. 

"Why d—?"  _ Why do you care?  _

Oh, how ironic it all was. Were they taking turns now? Was that what was happening? Was this some fucked up plan by the universe. Jisung had seen Hyunjin break down so it was only fair that Hyunjin get free viewing to Jisung's descent into darkness? 

He closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow down and let him catch his breath. It was like they were back in the same position from a week ago, except this time it was Jisung on the verge of breaking down. 

It was a wonder Hyunjin hadn't completely snapped at him that night, when Jisung had been so persistent. Standing in Hyunjinxs position now, Jisung found himself two seconds away from screaming.

"Nothing happened," Jisung choked out. 

Hyunjin's expression was doubtful, and Jisung couldn't blame him. His shoulders shook as he drew in a deep breath, his entire body quivering, muscles pulled tight. He was sure he'd snap with just one touch. 

"I promise, nothing happened. I'm just—" he stopped. What was he? Upset? Anxious? Sad? Angry? He didn't know and that only made it worse. Why didn't he know? Wasn't he supposed to know? 

"Just what?" Hyunjin asked, drawing Jisung out of his thoughts. He took a step closer and Jisung flinched. Hyunjin stopped again. "Talk to me."

_ "I can't,"  _ Jisung whispered, voice cracking. Hyunjin's expression changed at that, worry intensifying. "I  _ can't,  _ okay? Please just—just leave me alone." 

He hated the desperation in his voice. He hated how pathetic he must look to Hyunjin right now. He hated that he still  _ cared  _ about something as stupid and insignificant as that. 

He watched Hyunjin's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He could tell it was a struggle for Hyunjin to step away and keep his mouth shut, but he did it anyway and Jisung was grateful. 

"Jisung—" 

_ "Go away, Hyunjin!" _ Jisung yelled harshly, his voice echoing through the room. Guilt washed over him not ever a second later and his head shot up to take in Hyunjin's shocked expression. He wasn't accustomed to the immediate need to apologise to Hyunjin. He was used to actually caring whether or not he hurt Hyunjin's feelings. 

_ Shit.  _

Had he just ruined whatever tentative truce they'd formed in the last two weeks? 

_ Shit shit shit.  _

"Shit—I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—fuck,  _ Hyunjin—"  _

Hyunjin stopped him from rambling with a soft laugh. Taking a step forward, but not coming too close, Hyunjin crouched down until he was lower than Jisung, looking up at him with surprisingly understanding eyes. 

"It's fine," Hyunjin said softly. "Honestly, I'm worried that you're apologizing to me. More than I am about the yelling."

Jisung laughed, but it was watery and bordering on hysterical. He needed to get away, he needed to  _ not exist _ . 

"I need to get back to my dorm," Jisung said when the laughter had died in his throat and his eyes were prickling with unshed tears. He really,  _ really  _ didn't want Hyunjin to see him cry even though he knew that was unfair considering everything that had happened between them. 

Maybe that's why. Despite everything, he wanted to seem like the stronger one of them, the one who had had his shit together. Not because he didn't think Hyunjin was strong, both physically and mentally, but because for some reason, he didn't want Hyunjin to think any less of him. How was he supposed to keep his promise of being able to protect Hyunjin if he was this crying, sniffling mess? 

"Then let's go," Hyunjin said.

He walked back to where he had been sitting and grabbed his towel, hoodie, and water bottle before making his way back to Jisung. 

"Hyunjin, no—" Jisung tried to stop him but Hyunjin silenced him with a fierce look. 

" _ Let's. Go." _ Hyunjin said, no room for any further arguments in his tone. 

Jisung swallowed back any protests that came to his lips, only nodding instead and following as Hyunjin lead the way. He waited as Hyunjin locked the studio door. 

The night air cooled his face. He gasped, trying to take a deep breath, but he feared that if he did he might start crying. Hyunjin walked ahead of him, not too close to crowd him, but also not far away enough that it would feel like he'd left Jisung behind. The same way Jisung had on  _ that  _ night two weeks ago. 

He realized belatedly, that this must have been how Hyunjin had felt that night. 

Helpless. Out of control. Scared. Confused. 

Definitely confused. 

"Hey, Jisung?" Hyunjin said when they were standing in front of Jisung's dorm building and wait—when had they even gotten here? Had they walked that far without Jisung noticing? And now Hyunjin had to walk all the way back to his dorm and—

_ "Jisung!"  _ Hyunjin said, snapping Jisung out of his daze. Jisung blinked at him, still trying to come back to himself. 

"Yeah?" He asked. His voice sounded so far away, like he was underwater. Like he was drowning. 

"Only I can mess with you. No one else," Hyunjin said. Jisung almost smiled at the familiar words—his own words. 

"Not even you."

Jisung swallowed heavily, looking away from Hyunjin's prying eyes. Of course, Hyunjin knew. It was obvious, wasn't it? Or maybe he knew because he understood. 

Jisung's mind flashed back to that night, to the pained expression on Hyunjin's face, the tears staining his cheeks, his stuttering breaths and his need to just  _ get everyone to leave him alone.  _

Yeah, Hyunjin understood. Jisung was sure of it. 

"I'll try to remember that," Jisung said, just loud enough for Hyunjin to hear. 

"Good," Hyunjin nodded. 

They stood like that for a moment, just looking at each other until that need to get away finally overcame him. 

"Goodnight, Hyunjin," Jisung said. 

He turned away before Hyunjin could say anything back, taking the stairs two-by-two until he was standing in front of the building doors, breathless. 

"Goodnight!" Hyunjin called out to him. "And Jisung?" 

Jisung stopped, glancing over his shoulder to look at Hyunjin who was still standing there. He raised his eyebrows in question. 

"Get some sleep, okay?" Hyunjin said. Jisung shook his head, not in amusement, but something close. 

"I will if you will," Jisung said. 

Hyunjin's face transformed into a smile, his cheeks dimpling and eyes disappearing into crescents. It was a smile Jisung had seen often—though never directed at him. He had no idea what to do now that he was on the receiving end of it. 

He felt lighter for a moment, like he could forget the pressure weighing down on his chest, the raging headache building behind his eyes, the tears threatening to spill over. 

Jisung nodded once and Hyunjin nodded back, another understanding passing between them. 

When he turned away to push through the doors, that light feeling vanished. He pressed a hand to his chest, as if he could feel the pressure drop back down. He shook his head and pushed forward.

He was shaking again by the time he reached his dorm, hands fumbling as he opened the door. It was so late, but the lights were on and Felix was still awake. He glanced up from his laptop when Jisung entered, his eyes immediately cataloguing every detail of Jisung's miserable state. 

"Oh, Sung," Felix said, already moving before Jisung could hit the ground. 

Felix's arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace, cradling him close. Sobs crawled out of his chest, whimpers filling the quiet room. He clutched onto Felix desperately, his fingers digging in deep enough to bruise. But Felix didn't care. He stroked Jisung's hair softly, rocking him back and forth, whispering soothing words into Jisung's ear. 

Jisung hated this. He  _ hated  _ this feeling, but it wouldn't go away. All he could do was hope that Felix's would hold on tight enough to make sure he didn't drift off. To make sure he didn't disappear. 

"It's okay," Felix said, his deep voice soft and gentle. He shushed Jisung, pulling him closer until Jisung's head was buried in his chest. Felix pressed a kiss to Jisung's hair, resting his lips there while Jisung's cried into his sweater. 

"I've got you," Felix whispered into his hair.  _ "I've got you."  _

And Jisung let himself fall apart in his best friend's arms. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> conversations and cuddles

Hyunjin didn't like this feeling, this uneasiness swirling around in his chest, making it  _ impossible  _ for him to breathe. 

He lay in bed, flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling while his music played through his headphones on full volume. It was a song he usually liked, one that he listened to often since it helped to calm his nerves. It was a slow and relaxing song, the kind he could imagine listening to on a clear summer's day while lazing in the sun. But right now?

Right now it might as well have been nails on a chalkboard with the way it grated on his eardrums. 

He let out a frustrated huff, pulling his earphones out and sitting upright. He raised his hand to his lips before he realised what he was doing. He stopped and balled his hand into a fist before shoving it into the mattress. Biting his nails had always been his worst habit, but recently it had gotten worse. His nails were bitten to hell, stubby and ugly. If Seungmin were there, he would give Hyunjin his signature exasperated frown. 

Hyunjin picked up his phone, but there were no messages—though what had he expected? It wasn't like he and Jisung were friends. It wasn't like Jisung was going to text him—though they had each other's numbers, but that was only for emergencies—so why was Hyunjin sitting here,  _ waiting?  _

There were a few texts from Seungmin and Minho, but none from Felix. That would be unusual if Hyunjin didn't know that Felix was the first person Jisung went to when he was upset, so it was understandable that he'd be offline. 

_ That  _ should have put Hyunjin at ease. Felix was with Jisung. Felix, who had been there for everything and knew Jisung better than almost anyone else, that should be enough to make Hyunjin feel better.

_ So why  _ did Hyunjin still feel restless? Why was there this insistent need to check up on Jisung? They'd never done that before—except for that one time which  _ they don't talk about _ —and Jisung hadn't checked up on Hyunjin when he was upset. 

Okay, Jisung  _ had _ sent a text to Changbin to check up on him, but it wasn't like Hyunjin could just call Felix and ask him how Jisung was doing, because that would be way too suspicious. There was too much history between them, too many things Felix and Seungmin didn't know about, things both he and Jisung didn't want known. Calling Felix would bring up questions that Hyunjin would rather not answer yet, if ever. 

Hyunjin sighed again, burying his face in his hands and groaning. He stayed like that for a while, until his mind conjured up images of Jisung from the night before. 

He'd looked, well, like Hyunjin imagined  _ he _ had looked on  _ that  _ night. Terrified, angry, frustrated... but most of all,  _ desperate.  _ Exhaustion had been all but rolling off him in waves, and Hyunjin hadn't missed the way his hands shook where they clutching his notebook to his chest. 

Hyunjin didn't know what could have caused that, but he knew that Jisung—much like himself—was a perfectionist. He could recognise those ink marks on his hands and the scratches on the leather of his notebook for what they were. Hyunjin found those markers on himself sometimes, though they materialized differently. His was bruised knees and knuckles, aching muscles and almost-twisted ankles. 

Jisung had been pushing himself too far for way too long and it had finally caught up to him. And Hyunjin was all to familiar with that. 

Burn out was always the worst. 

Hyunjin was moving before he even realised what he was doing. It was late in the afternoon, the sun almost ready to set again, drowning the sky in a light pink colour. He was still dressed in his pyjamas. He'd meant to take a nap and then go down to the studio at around eight, but he was too wired now. His restlessness and unease over Jisung had him buzzing with energy, but not the kind he could jog off. He needed to actually  _ see  _ for himself that Jisung was okay before he could calm down. 

He didn't know if Jisung was in his dorm or not—and it would be weird to just show up there—so he thought it would be safer to check in at the studio first. Changbin had said that the three of them were still working on something together, so maybe Jisung had gotten over whatever he'd been going through—Hyunjin doubted it. 

Hyunjin was proven right when he got to the studio to find only Chan and Changbin there. Changbin looked confused to find him there, but Chan… Chan looked at him as if he knew  _ exactly  _ why Hyunjin was standing before them. 

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. What did Chan know? 

“Have you seen Jisung?” Hyunjin asked, trying to keep his tone as casual as possible. 

He dug his hands into his pockets and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. Changbin raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Chan nodded to himself, as if Hyunjin’s words were confirmation—which, to him, they probably were. 

“He didn’t show up today,” Chan said. There was something hidden in his carefully neutral tone. Worry? Maybe even suspicion? It was understandable, he had to admit. 

Hyunjin didn’t ask after Jisung often—he didn’t ask after Jisung  _ at all.  _ Chan probably thought it was Hyunjin’s fault that Jisung was upset. If only Chan knew that the last time Hyunjin had managed to genuinely upset Jisung was almost five years ago, and that had barely lasted. 

“I guess I’ll just check his dorm then,” Hyunjin said. He moved to leave but Chan called after him. 

“Hyunjin,” Chan said. 

Hyunjin stopped, turning back to face him. Changbin still hadn’t said anything, but he was looking between Chan and Hyunjin with obvious confusion. “Don’t—” 

“I’m not looking for a fight, hyung. I’m—” Hyunjin hesitated before saying, “worried.” 

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Chan said. “I know you’re worried about him but…”

“Jisung likes to be alone,” Changbin said, drawing both of their attentions. “He doesn’t like being vulnerable around people, especially people close to him. He likes to keep this image of being strong even when he’s… not.” 

“And if he doesn’t want to be around even the people he  _ likes _ when he feels weak, he’ll want to be around  _ others  _ even less,” Chan said, with a sad smile. 

Chan said "others" but Hyunjin knew what he really meant was  _ you.  _

_ Jisung wouldn't want to be around you.  _

He knew Chan and Changbin were right—or they  _ thought  _ they were right—but while Hyunjin might be “others” he’s still known Jisung longer than both of them combined. 

The two of them, they’d seen each other at their worst points. Hyunjin couldn’t just  _ let this go.  _ He knew Jisung. He knew leaving Jisung alone to fester in his own intrusive thoughts would wreak hell on his state of mind. After all, Hyunjin was the same way. And—as previously, begrudgingly stated—the two of them were more similar than they would like. 

He knew Changbin and Chan just wanted to give Jisung what he'd asked for—what he wanted—but Hyunjin knew it wasn't what he  _ needed.  _

"You're right hyung," Hyunjin said. He bit his bottom lip and looked at the ground for a second, steeling himself. "It's none of my business. I'll just leave it." 

Hyunjin had never been the best liar—something all his friends always mocked him for—but both Chan and Changbin looked convinced. 

"It's for the best, Jinnie," Chan said apologetically. "He'll come around on his own time."

_ Like hell he will.  _

"Of course, hyung," Hyunjin said. His stubby fingernails dug into his palms almost painfully, but he kept his posture relaxed. "I'll just go see Seungminnie then."

"Tell him I can't make it tonight, yeah? I don't think I'll be out of the studio in time," Changbin said, giving Hyunjin an expectant look. 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. Of course Changbin wanted  _ him  _ to tell Seungmin because he  _ knew  _ that if he told Seungmin himself, Seungmin would talk him out of it. The weak,  _ weak _ bastard. 

"Sure, hyung," Hyunjin said with a shrug. "But next time I won't save you from your boyfriend." 

Changbin didn't even deny the words, instead he just grinned thankfully. 

"I'll see you later then, hyungs," Hyunjin said, giving them a small smile and wave as he left the room. Once the door was shut, the smile dropped off his face. 

Chan's words only solidified that fact that he  _ needed  _ to see Jisung. 

But first….

Cheesecake. 

*

Hyunjin paced in front of Jisung and Felix's dorm, unable to bring himself to knock on the door. The brown paper bag he was holding crackling loudly in the silence of the hallway as he tightened his grip on it. The thermos was still warm in his other hand, but it would cool soon if he didn't do something quickly. 

He took a shuddering breath, physically shaking himself and swallowing his nervousness before planting himself firmly in front of the door. 

_ Just knock. What's the worst thing that could happen?  _

He knocked before he could stop himself, rapping his knuckles against the hardwood twice before he could talk himself out of it. 

_ Shit. He  _ had  _ to go through with this now _ .

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Hyunjin let out a sigh, half out of relief and half out of disappointment. Maybe Felix and Jisung weren't there. Maybe Felix had taken Jisung somewhere else to make him feel better. 

Hyunjin bit at his bottom lip. He felt ridiculous now. He nodded to himself because  _ of course.  _

_ What did you think you were going to do? Just show up and make him feel better?  _

_ Idiot. _

He turned to leave, ready to go back to his dorm and crawl into bed. He'd probably stretch, but he didn't feel like going to the studio to practice anymore. He had barely taken a step when the door suddenly swung open, revealing an out-of-breath Felix, his eyes wide as he half stumbled out of the door on his crutches. 

It was obvious that it wasn't Hyunjin who Felix had expected to find standing in front of his dorm room at six in the evening. He stopped short when he caught sight of Hyunjin, his features creasing into a frown. Hyunjin gave Felix what he knew was his most charming smile—though he knew Felix would see right through that after years of exposure—and cleared his throat awkwardly when Felix stayed silent. 

"Hey," he said when Felix  _ still  _ didn't say anything. "Is Jisung here?" 

If it was possible, Felix's eyes widened even more. His mouth fell open in surprise. 

"I'm sorry—what?" Felix asked. 

"Jisung? Is he here?" Hyunjin asked again. "I went to the studio but hyungs said he didn't go in today and—" 

"Wait—just let me—" Felix waved his arms, stopping Hyunjin from speaking. He looked like a baby fawn, trying his best to balance on his crutches and flail around. "_You're _looking for Jisung?" 

Hyunjin nodded. Felix looked like he didn't believe him, and Hyunjin couldn't blame him. 

_ "You— _ Hwang Hyunjin—are looking for Jisung? Han Jisung?" Felix asked, raising his eyebrows disbelievingly.

Hyunjin's annoyance was rapidly increasing, but he knew he couldn't blame Felix for his confusion and doubt. With his and Jisung's history, Hyunjin was just glad Felix hadn't slammed the door in his face. 

" _ Yes _ , Lix." Felix narrowed his eyes at him. 

"Look—I'm not here to start a fight. I just want to talk to him, okay?  _ Please _ , that's all," Hyunjin said—no— _ begged. _

_ I can't believe this,  _ Hyunjin thought.  _ I'm  _ begging  _ over Han Jisung _ . 

If it had been two weeks ago, Hyunjin would have rather died than resorted to begging, but now, after everything that happened…

Maybe it wasn't the worst thing.

"I—" Felix stared at him in shock. "I have no idea what's going on between you two—I'm not even sure I  _ want  _ to know—but I swear to God Jinnie, if you try anything—" 

"I won't," Hyunjin said, a bit louder than necessary. He took a breath, calming himself down. "I'm just here to talk, that's all. I promise, Lix."

Felix stared at him, eyes roaming over his features as if trying to catch any signs of a lie. When he found none, the tension in his stance lessened and his shoulders dropped. 

"I'm trusting you, okay?" Felix said, his voice was gentle but firm. Hyunjin gulped and nodded. 

Felix stepped out into the hallway, moving to the side and gesturing for Hyunjin to go inside. Hyunjin had barely stepped over the threshold when he realised Felix was hobbling down the hallway. 

"You didn't have to leave," Hyunjin said, frowning. Felix turned to look at him with a small smile. 

"I figured you wouldn't want me around for your…  _ talk,"  _ Felix said. "And anyway, I need to get out of that dorm. I've been stuck in there for way too long."

"Be safe okay? Your ankle—" 

" _ Yes,  _ I know," Felix said, rolling his eyes. He was probably so tired of them fussing over him by now. "I'll be careful." 

"You should find Seungminnie," Hyunjin said. The exasperated and disappointed expression on Seungmin's face from earlier flashed through his mind. "Changbin-hyung's staying late at the studio and he's… a bit upset." 

Felix winced at the words. 

They all knew what "a bit upset" meant when it came to Kim Seungmin. Safe to say, it wasn't fun or pretty—which is exactly why Changbin hadn't told Seungmin himself that he would be working late, knowing how Seungmin reaction would react. And Seungmin would be in a foul, passive aggressive mood for days to come. Or until Changbin cutely annoyed him into forgiving him. 

"I'll go find him," Felix sighed. Hyunjin almost felt bad for him, but he was just happy  _ he  _ wouldn't be on the receiving end of Seungmin's temper. 

"Take care of him," Hyunjin said, though unnecessarily because Felix always took care of them. 

Unlike Seungmin who seemed to have the answer to every problem, Felix was a silent companion. Someone who—while not really giving advice or filling the silence with empty promises like  _ things would get better with time _ —would share your pain as if it was his own. 

"You take care of Jisung," Felix said. He stopped and chuckled. "I can't believe I'm saying that to  _ you _ ."

"Neither can I," Hyunjin admitted. 

"I'll see you two later, text me if you need anything," Felix said. 

Hyunjin nodded, a genuine smile gracing his face. He stayed in the doorway, watching as Felix limped down the hallway. Only when he was safely in the elevator, waving at Hyunjin as the doors closed, did Hyunjin turn away and fully step into the room. 

_ Take care of Jisung.  _

He could do that, couldn't he? He might not have done it before, but it had worked well enough last night, though he'd  _ barely  _ done anything. 

He took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds, feeling his heart slow, before letting it out. He could do this. He  _ could do this.  _

He stepped into the room, shaking his head at himself. 

_ You can do this. You  _ can. 

He moved forward, clutching his thermos to his chest as he quietly trod through the room. He couldn't see him, but there was a lump of blankets on his bed that Hyunjin was sure was Jisung. Hyunjin took a seat on Felix's bed, the springs squeaking under him softly. He placed the bag down, wincing as the paper crackled loudly. 

"Lix—please—" Jisung said, emerging from the heap of blankets, hair wild and eyes half closed. He stopped when he noticed that it was definitely not Felix in the room with him. 

Jisung's eyes widened comically as he stared at Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin smiled nervously, fiddling with the lid of the thermos in his hands. He swallowed. 

"Hey, Jisung." 

"What are you doing here?" Jisung asked after a prolonged silence.

His voice was so hoarse it sounded painful. He shifted until he was propped up against the headboard of his bed frame. Hyunjin drummed his fingers on the thermos, a mismatched beat that mimicked that of his own heartbeat. 

"I—uh… I wanted to see how you were doing. I brought you some stuff." 

He placed the thermos on Jisung's bedside table before picking up the brown bag and beginning to unpack its contents. 

"You brought me stuff?" Jisung asked, and though he wasn't looking at him, Hyunjin could hear the confusion and wariness in his tone. 

"Yeah!" Hyunjin said, a bit too loudly. He was so nervous, his heart pounding in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. He didn't know why. It was  _ just  _ Jisung. Jisung who he's known for basically his whole life. This shouldn't be making him so anxious. 

Hyunjin's flexed his hands to try and stop them from shaking as he placed the containers on the table. 

"I didn't know what would cheer you up. I got cheesecake—I wasn't sure which one you liked so I got a slice of each one they had—but I got chocolate too, just in case. And I tried to make some of Seungmin's calming tea, the one he makes for me when I'm upset, but I'm not sure if I made it right so it might taste a little weird, sorry. But um...yeah." 

Hyunjin bit down hard on his bottom lip to force himself to stop talking. He tucked his hands between his legs, shoulders hunched. He didn't—couldn't—look at Jisung, keeping his gaze on the floor. 

"Hyunjin?" Jisung said.

Hyunjin head snapped up so fast he almost pulled a muscle. Jisung was staring at him, expression blank and unreadable. That only served to make Hyunjin more nervous. 

"Y-Yeah?" He cursed himself for the stutter. He wrung his hands harshly, his fingernails digging into his skin as he waited for whatever Jisung was about to say next. 

"Why are you  _ really  _ here? Why did you bring all this stuff?" Jisung asked. His tone was distant, detached almost, like he wasn't fully there, still stuck in his own mind. 

"I—" Hyunjin stopped. He looked away from Jisung, unable to say the words to his face. "I came because I was worried about you." 

"You were... _ worried  _ about me?" Jisung asked, repeating the words slowly. When Hyunjin looked up, some of the light had come back into his dark eyes. Hyunjin smiled crookedly. 

"Is that so hard to believe?" He asked, although he already knew the answer. 

"Yeah, kinda…" Jisung said. His own smile was minuscule, almost nonexistent, and Hyunjin would have missed it completely had he not been studying Jisung's face so intensely. 

"I know we don't usually  _ do this _ ," Hyunjin said, not clarifying what  _ this  _ was, but they both knew what he meant. 

"We don't do this at all—" Jisung said, rolling his eyes. He shifted again, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest. 

" _ But _ , you were there for me when I needed someone," Hyunjin said—if "being there" for someone was beating the shit out of anyone who wronged them—and Jisung raised his eyebrows. "And maybe I can't beat you up, but I guess the least I can do is just… be there for you too. If that's okay?" 

Hyunjin gulped, staring at Jisung's face to see his reaction.

"It's okay," Jisung said softly. He rested his chin on the pillow he was holding. He looked up at Hyunjin, "It's just—this is  _ really  _ weird. You know that right?" 

"Trust me, I know," Hyunjin huffed out a laugh. He stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He bit his lip, unsure if he should ask his next question. 

"Can I—Can I sit?" He asked, gesturing to the spot next to Jisung. Jisung stared at him, his eyebrows drawn together into a frown before he realised what Hyunjin was talking about. Jisung blinked in surprise. 

"Oh, uh—" Jisung shifted closer to the wall so that there was more place for Hyunjin. "Sure."

Hyunjin carefully climbed onto the bed next to him, but still kept a safe distance between them, their shoulders barely brushing. Hyunjin leaned back against the headboard, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. He rested his chin on his knee, watching Jisung from the corner of his eye. 

"So…" Jisung said, trailing off awkwardly. Hyunjin couldn't help it—he giggled.

"So…" Hyunjin mocked, but not unkindly. Hyunjin's laughter must have done the trick, because Jisung visibly relaxed. 

"God, this is so weird," Jisung said. Hyunjin nodded in agreement. Jisung glanced at him for a second, before looking back out into the room. "We've never done this… without the others. Except—"

"Except for when you came to sleep over at my house and eat all my mom's food?" Hyunjin asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Years ago, after Jisung's parents had moved back to Malaysia, Jisung would sleep over at Hyunjin's house sometimes. He always claimed that it was because he adored Hyunjin's mother's cooking, but Hyunjin knew it was because he was lonely. Hyunjin would always be annoyed, but he'd never turn Jisung away. He could barely stand to live in a different city than his parents, let alone a different country. He couldn't even imagine what it must be like for Jisung. 

"Yeah," Jisung ducked his head shyly, drawing Hyunjin out of the memories. "How is she?" 

Hyunjin smiled to himself, remembering the last time his mother had called him a few days ago. She would probably be so worried right now, because Hyunjin hadn't texted her back since  _ that  _ night. 

"She's fine. She misses me, of course," Hyunjin said airly, waving his hand seemingly dismissively. Jisung rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. "And she sends me pictures of Kkami almost every day." 

"That sounds nice," Jisung said as he picked at the threads of his duvet.  There was something in his tone that made Hyunjin look at him,  _ really  _ look at him. 

"You miss your parents?" Hyunjin asked softly. He knew the answer was obvious, but he still asked. 

"All the time," Jisung said, his voice cracking a bit. He cleared his throat and forced a smile. "My mom calls at least once or twice a week." 

"Tell her I say hi next time she calls," Hyunjin said, grinning at Jisung's amused look. 

" _ Oh, the annoying one that you don't like, _ " Jisung imitated what Hyunjin assumed was his mother's voice. Hyunjin laughed, his body falling to the side, leaning against Jisung.

They both froze. Hyunjin waited for Jisung to shove him away, or tell him to move, but he never did. Instead, Jisung relaxed next to him. Hyunjin ducked his head, relaxing as well.

He cleared his throat. 

"It's actually the opposite for me. My mom keeps asking when you're coming over again. She misses her little  _ Jisungie _ ~" Hyunjin drew out the syllable until Jisung was shaking with laughter. The knot in Hyunjin's chest loosened as the sound filled his ears. 

"Your mom was always the coolest," Jisung said, shoulders still shaking with laughter. 

"Yeah—she still is," Hyunjin sniffed. "Maybe you should visit some time." 

"Maybe I should," Jisung said, and he sounded like he actually meant it. Hyunjin scooted down the bed until his head was resting on Jisung's shoulder. Again, he stayed still, waiting for Jisung to tell him to move away. 

He didn't. Instead, Jisung leaned his head on top of Hyunjin's. His sigh ruffled Hyunjin's hair, tickling his forehead. 

"Do you want to… talk about it?" Hyunjin asked, after they'd been lying in silence for a while. Hyunjin had been sure Jisung was falling back asleep. The yawn he heard against his ear confirmed his theory. 

"No," Jisung said. Hyunjin let his head fall back, looking up at Jisung with wide eyes. Jisung narrowed his eyes, holding Hyunjin's gaze for a few seconds before sighing. "Not right now."

"Okay, I'll wait," Hyunjin said with a smile. 

He sat up and Jisung grunted at the disruption of their position. Hyunjin reached over him to grab the containers and plastic forks. He handed a fork to Jisung. "For now, let's have some cake." 

Jisung accepted the fork, taking one of the containers out of Hyunjin's hands as well. He opened it and Hyunjin could all but  _ see  _ him salivating. 

"I can't believe you got one of each," Jisung said as he finished his  _ second  _ slice of cheesecake. He had almost licked the container clean—he probably would have if Hyunjin hadn't been there. 

"What was I supposed to do?" Hyunjin asked with a pout. "I didn't know which one you liked!" 

"Cheesecake is cheesecake, I would've like any one," Jisung said, as he started on his third slice. Hyunjin just stared at him. 

_ How can someone that small eat so much?  _

Hyunjin was still on his first slice, although that was mostly because he didn't actually like cheesecake. It had a strange, slimy texture that he couldn't stand. 

"Whatever," Hyunjin said. He grabbed onto the corner of the container in Jisung's hand. "I can always just take these and eat them all myself." 

"No!" Jisung said, snatching the container out of Hyunjin's grasp and cradling it to his chest. 

"That's what I thought," Hyunjim smirked. He went back to eating his own slice, grimacing with every bite he took. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, he shoved it in Jisung's direction. "This is disgusting."

Jisung accepted it eagerly, already halfway through the slice he'd been eating. Hyunjin smiled to himself, shaking his head. He reached for the lone slice of chocolate cake he'd bought—in case Jisung hadn't liked the cheesecake—and hummed in content at the first delicious bite. He almost choked when he looked up. 

Jisung's cheeks were stuffed, and yet he still managed to take bite after bite, not stopping. 

_ A squirrel,  _ Hyunjin thought, but didn't say out loud.  _ Cute. _

When Hyunjin had finished his slice—Jisung his third—he set the empty container on the table again and settled back into Jisung's side. Jisung placed his container on the table as well, picking up the thermos before he leaned back. He unscrewed the top, pouring some out before taking a sip. Hyunjin felt the way Jisng tensed next to him. He turned his head, watching as Jisung gulped. His face was devoid of any emotion until he turned to Hyunjin smiling. There was something about that smile that didn't sit right with him. 

"Not good?" Hyunjin asked. 

"No— _ No _ ," Jisung tried to say, but he sputtered around a cough. His voice was strained, and it was obvious that he was lying for Hyunjin's sake. "It's great." 

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. He plucked the thermos out of his hand before Jisung could stop him, pouring himself a cup. He handed the thermos back to Jisung and sat up.

He looked down at the pale-green tinted liquid skeptically before taking a large sip. He pressed his palm to his mouth to keep from spewing out the liquid all over Jisung's bed. Jisung cackled next to him as he coughed and heaved, struggling to force the liquid down his throat. When he had finally caught his breath, Jisung was still laughing loudly, his eyes closed and head thrown back. 

"Sorry it's so bad," Hyunjin apologised, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. Jisung shook his head, still giggling. 

"It's fine," Jisung said. 

Hyunjin sighed, closing the thermos and putting it on the table. He leaned back, but he was so comfortable that instead of leaning back and lying on Jisung's shoulder, he shifted lower until his head rested above Jisung's hip. Jisung froze for longer than he had before and Hyunjin was afraid that he pushed too far, moved to fast. He was about to move away when Jisung stiffly raised his arm and laid it across Hyunjin's shoulders. 

Hyunjin released the breath he'd been holding and relaxed further into Jisung's side. 

"Hey," Jisung said after a while of them lying in silence. "Thanks for this. If you hadn't shown up, I would have just…"

"Stayed here alone, pushing everyone away and wallowing in your own self pity, suffering in silence because you didn't want to bother anyone else with your insignificant little problems?" Hyunjin asked, looking down at his own hands at he trailed his fingertips across the fabric. 

"How did you know?" Jisung asked, but his voice was soft—almost inaudible—and Hyunjin could feel the pain lacing his tone. Hyunjin reached over, grabbing onto one of Jisung's hands and interlaced their fingers.

"Because I get it," Hyunjin said, just as softly. 

"Sometimes it's just… too much. I can't stand being in my own head. It's too loud in there. I just want to get out. I just want to…" jisung trailed off. His hand tightened on Hyunjin's shoulder where it had been resting. 

"Be someone else?" Hyunjin asked.

He rolled over until he was curled up, his head in Jisung's lap and his knees pressed into Jisung's hip. Jisung looked down at him in surprise, but only for a second, before he ghosting his free hand across Hyunjin's bangs, as if he wanted—but was too afraid—to touch. Hyunjin wished he would but he didn't know why. 

This whole position was too intimate. Too intimate for two people who had hated each other just  _ three weeks ago _ . But here they were. 

"We're too similar, aren't we?" Jisung asked, resting his hand next to Hyunjin's head. 

"I used to think it was the worst thing in the world," Hyunjin said, laughing softly. "Now—not so much." 

Jisung smiled at that, but there was still a pained strain to it. 

"This doesn't happen often, but when it does, I'm usually alone," Jisung admitted with a shrug.

"I know that Lix and Minnie and hyungs care but… they have their own lives to live. They have their own problems to deal with, they don't need me adding to that with something so small."

Hyunjin swallowed thickly. Jisung's words were eerily similar to the ones that had been running through his head since  _ that  _ night had happened. 

He squeezed Jisung's hand tightly, almost bruising it. 

"It isn't small. It isn't insignificant. And I know— _ I know _ —that you don't want to bother them but they're your friends. That's what they're here for. That what—" he stopped, hesitating. "It's what  _ I'm _ here for."

Jisung's eyes looked teary, but that could've been a trick of the light. Hyunjin pretended not to hear the way Jisung sniffed before he spoke again. 

"So what? We're friends now?" Jisung asked. He rubbed at his nose. "I don't remember deciding that."

"Well  _ I  _ just decided, and if there's one thing you need to know about being my friend," Hyunjin said, grinning widely. "Is that once I've made a decision, I won't change my mind. Ever." 

"You're really something else, aren't you?" Jisung asked, but he sounded almost fond instead of annoyed. 

"Thank you," Hyunjin said cheerfully, smiling until his cheeks hurt. Jisung huffed out a laugh, shaking his head at Hyunjin's antics. 

"Who said it was a compliment?" Jisung asked, but there was no heat in his voice. 

Hyunjin sighed flopping down onto his back. Jisung hesitantly carded his hand through Hyunjin's hair. When he didn't receive a bad reaction, Jisung did it again. Hyunjin resisted the urge to purr in pleasure as the soft pressure on his scalp. 

"I did," Hyunjin sighed contently. 

His eyes fluttered closed and he felt himself drifting off. He hadn't had a proper night's sleep in weeks. Either he was up all night, staring blankly at the ceiling for hours until the sun came out. Or he slept like the dead until way past noon, but he still woke up feeling more tired than before. 

Lying there in Jisung's lap, cocooned by blankets and pressed up against Jisung's warm body, he felt more at ease than he had in weeks. He sighed, stifling a yawn. 

"Is this how it's going to be from now on?" Jisung asked when Hyunjin was half asleep. Hyunjin peeked one eye open. 

"Oh definitely," Hyunjin said, yawning despite himself. Jisung just looked amused. "You'll just have to get used to it." 

"I guess I will," Jisung said softly. Hyunjin nodded absentmindedly, closing his eyes again. He was lulled further and faster into sleep by the sound and feeling over Jisung's steady breathing. 

He was almost completely gone when Jisung decided to move. Hyunjin groaned at the disruption as Jisung moved his head out of his lap. 

"Jisung," he whined drowsily.

Jisung shushed him, whispering  _ I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just give me a second.  _ Hyunjin opened his eyes, his vision blurry as he watched Jisung move around. He was surprised when Jisung threw an arm around his middle, drawing him closer. It was a position he had often been in with Seungmin and Felix, but never Jisung—for obvious reasons. 

"Is this okay?" Jisung asked, lifting his head to look at Hyunjin's face. 

"Perfect," Hyunjin muttered, just loud enough for Jisung to hear. He felt Jisung nod before he settled back down, his forehead pressed to the back of Hyunjin's neck. 

It dawned on him vaguely, that he was  _ cuddling  _ with Jisung. Han Jisung, his worst enemy. Or well,  _ former  _ worst enemy. 

It was such a strange turn of events. Hyunjin from a month ago would probably shriek in indignation about his current position. Hell, even six-year-old Hyunjin would probably throw a tantrum. 

But now? Now Hyunjin didn't care. Jisung was so warm, and he held on so tightly, as if he was afraid Hyunjin would disappear if he didn't. Which was impossible because he was so comfortable, his eyelids drooping shut once again. He quickly fell asleep to the sound of Jisung's breathing, the feeling of his chest rising and falling with Hyunjin's own, his warm breath against his back. 

That was how Felix found them hours later, both still dead to the world, wrapped up in each other. 

He was in a state of shock and disbelief when he walked into the room, but honestly, those two had been weird for weeks now. He had no idea what had happened—and he would wait until they were both ready to tell him—but he was just glad they were finally getting along. He grabbed his charger and stuffed some clothes in a bag, making sure to be as quiet as possible, although he doubted either of them would wake even if he were to scream at the top of his lungs right at that moment. 

He wouldn't tell Seungmin about what he'd seen—as Seungmin had his own problems to deal with right now (read: dumbass Seo Changbin)—not until he was sure of what was going on. 

He slipped out of the room silently, not wanting to disturb the two when they were finally getting the rest they deserved. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mistakes were made.

Being Hyunjin's friend was… weird. 

Not  _ bad,  _ it was just not what Jisung had been expecting. Honestly, he didn't know  _ what  _ he had expected being Hyunjin's friend to be like. He was never really around when Hyunjin hung out alone with Seungmin, Felix, or Jeongin. All he knew was that Hyunjin was clingy and loud, and back then, that was all he needed to know. 

But now that they were actually friends, he found that Hyunjin was much more than that.  _ Yes,  _ Hyunjin was clingy—much like Chan, once you got within an arm's length of them, they would  _ attach  _ themselves to you and never let go—and  _ yes _ , he was loud—overly dramatic too—but now Jisung had found out just how much he hadn't known about Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin was funny. No, he was  _ really _ funny. Now that they weren't picking unnecessary fights with one another, Jisung found that his and Hyunjin's sense of humour was eerily similar. While they hadn't spent that much time alone together yet outside of  _ that  _ day and a few other times in the last few weeks, when they did, Jisung had spent his time laughing more often than not. And he was—secretly—pleased to find that it was the  _ easiest  _ thing to make Hyunjin laugh. 

Hyunjin was also caring and attentive, listening thoroughly even when Jisung thought he was spacing out. And he always remembered things. Well, he remembered the  _ important  _ things, like what kind of food Jisung liked, what music he listened to, his favourite dramas. These were small, trivial things but it was nice to know that someone was taking their time to get to know even the smallest details about the things he liked.

He had mostly only hung out with Hyunjin in a group setting, where there was at least two or three other people with them at all times—which was understandable, because they were never to be left alone together as  _ that  _ would result in disaster. Or well, it  _ used  _ to result in disaster.

These days, not so much. 

While they weren't the closest they could have been, it was obvious that there had been a significant change between them. One that had them both on uneasy ground with each other, and had their friends more than confused. Seungmin and Felix—and Jeongin, whom they had called and texted and video chatted with—were the most confused out of everyone. 

"What's going on with you?" Seungmin had asked one day, when the three of them were sitting at lunch together during an afternoon when Jisung didn't have any classes and Seungmin had a break between lectures. Hyunjin was still taking full advantage of his leave, happily lazing around. 

Hyunjin and Jisung, who were sitting next to one another—which was already a strange occurrence—both looked up. Hyunjin had his hand in Jisung's plate, reaching for one of the salty fries that Jisung had bought along with his burger. Jisung used Seungmin's distraction as an excuse to slap Hyunjin's hand away. Hyunjin yelped and turned to him with a glare that quickly morphed into an unhappy pout. Jisung rolled his eyes and sighed, but moved the plate closer anyway. Hyunjin beamed—the  _ fucker _ —and happily started munching on Jisung's fries again. 

"Uh, guys?" Seungmin asked, drawing their attention again. 

"Sorry, what?" Jisung asked, looking away from Hyunjin to Seungmin's baffled expression. 

"What is going  _ on _ ?" Seungmin asked, his eyes darting between the two of them. 

Next to him, Hyunjin looked up from where he was devouring Jisung's fries, cheeks stuffed. Jisung laughed at the bit of sauce on the corner of Hyunjin's lips. He plucked one of the napkins off the pile on the table and handed it to Hyunjin, motioning to where Hyunjin's had to wipe. Hyunjin took the napkin gratefully and attempted to wipe away the stain, and of course, managed to  _ just  _ miss it every time. 

"Is it gone?" Hyunjin asked, looking at Jisung for confirmation. Jisung guffawed at him, taking the napkin and wiping away the stain himself. 

_ "There,"  _ Jisung said. Hyunjin nodded in thanks. Before either of them could say anything, a strangled sound came from across the table. They looked up at Seungmin, who was looking back at them with wide eyes, mouth open in shock. Jisung  _ really  _ wished he could have taken a picture. 

_ "What the fuck was that?"  _ Seungmin asked—no, shrieked. 

Jisung and Hyunjin looked at each other, frowning, but Jisung could see the way the corners of Hyunjin's lips twitched minimally, and knew he was fighting off a smile as well. 

"What was what?" Jisung asked, as innocently as possible. 

"You—You—" Seungmin stuttered, unable to find the right words. 

Jisung fought back his smirk of satisfaction—it was always fun to fuck with people, but it was  _ especially  _ fun to fuck with calm, composed, 'I've-got-everything-figured-out' Kim Seungmin—and kept an open, soft expression. Seungmin narrowed his eyes, glowering at Jisung, because he  _ knew  _ Jisung was messing with him. 

"I don't know what's going on with you two, but it's really fucking weird," Seungmin said, leaning back in his seat. 

"There's nothing going on with us," they said in unison. 

Jisung turned to glare at Hyunjin—because  _ that  _ wasn't making things obvious at all—only to find that Hyunjin was already doing the same thing. They made eye contact, their shared glare lasting for less than three seconds before they both burst out laughing. 

"Yeah," Seungmin drawled, taking an aggressive bite of his pizza and chewing loudly. "Absolutely nothing." 

Hyunjin turned away from Jisung and grinned at Seungmin, who was still scowling at the two of them. 

"What's with that look Seungminnie?" Hyunjin asked, tilting his head to the side and jutting out his bottom lip in an overly exaggerated pout that made Jisung snicker. Hyunjin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his lips curling up into the smallest smirk, before he turned his attention back to Seungmin. 

"Isn't this what you've always wanted? For us to get along? For us to be friends?" Hyunjin asked. 

Seungmin choked, his eyes bugging out.  _ "Friends?"  _

Hyunjin grinned, and before Jisung saw it coming, Hyunjin slung an arm around his shoulders and drew him closer. There was a deep-seated part of him that still somehow disliked Hyunjin—and had yet to let go of their history—and it cringed and fought to pull away. Jisung ignored it, sliding closer until he was pressed up against Hyunjin's side, arm resting around his waist. 

Jisung looked up at Hyunjin, who was already looking down at him, and smiled cheekily. Hyunjin smiled back, eyes disappearing into crescent and cheeks dimpling. 

"Friends," they said. 

*

Of course, it wasn't always that easy. There were still times where both of them would say things to piss the other off—it was second nature to them after all. They still fought, not to the extent they had before, but there were a few times when what seemed like a joke turned into a petty disagreement which turned into a loud, heated argument, and led to them not speaking for days afterwards. But now… it was easier to apologise for the things they said. 

The things they fought over now were much different from the things they had fought over in the past. Whereas in the past they found every excuse to ridicule and criticize each other, now Jisung fought with Hyunjin over the hours he spent at the studio, and Hyunjin would tear Jisung to pieces for not taking care of himself properly. 

"Look—you're supposed to be on a break," Jisung said one night, when he hadn't seen Hyunjin for the entire day because he'd been held up in one of the private studios, practicing. 

And the fact that he'd had to pester Seungmin about where Hyunjin was—because Hyunjin _ knew  _ Jisung would have stopped him from going—only served to piss him off. To make matters worse, the dark circles under Hyunjin's eyes that had  _ finally  _ started disappearing, now seemed darker than ever. When was the last time he slept?

"I'm not on a break because I  _ can't  _ dance," Hyunjin huffed, obviously annoyed. He tried to turn away from Jisung's enquiring look, but Jisung grabbed his wrist and held him in place. 

Hyunjin didn't shake him off, but Jisung could feel the Hyunjin tensed under his touch. Still, Jisung held him firm. 

"These are extenuating circumstances. And anyway, just because I'm not in class isn't an excuse for me to fall behind," Hyunjin said. 

"You're not falling behind. You're probably  _ ahead  _ of the class with the amount of time you've spent practising in the last two weeks alone. If you don't take a break, you're going to  _ hurt  _ yourself," Jisung said, some of the worry seeping into his tone. 

Jisung had seen the dark, fiery look in Hyunjin's eyes then. It was one he had seen a lot in the past, right before an argument ensued. Jisung's own hackles rose, and he readied himself for a fight, even though that wasn't really what he wanted to do. It was just an automatic response. 

He'd just wanted to  _ talk _ because fuck, he was so worried and Hyunjin disappearing for hours had spiked his previously nonexistent anxiety. Jisung, while being seen as a lively and energetic person, was actually quite calm. Maybe not as composed as Seungmin, but he thought that he was the kind of person who wasn't so easily rattled by the things life threw at him. 

But Hyunjin—Hwang  _ fucking  _ Hyunjin—had always gotten under his skin. And this was just proof that he always would, no matter the circumstances. 

"You have  _ a lot  _ of nerve talking to me about hurting myself," Hyunjin snapped, stepping forward until he was crowding into Jisung's space. Jisung tightened his grip on Hyunjin's wrist, his thumb brushing over Hyunjin's pulse point,  _ feeling  _ the way Hyunjin's heart picked up. 

Jisung tilted his head up in defiance, meeting Hyunjin's gaze head on with a clenched jaw and hard eyes. He refused to back down, not even under Hyunjin's withering gaze. 

"You can't even take care of yourself," Hyunjins said, his eyes travelling over Jisung's face "Who was the one who had to pick you up the last time you completely broke down? Oh right— _ me.  _ Who are  _ you  _ to tell me how to take care of myself? You, who won't even go to your friends for help? You, who shuts yourself away and  _ hides _ ." 

"Oh, please. Don't fucking  _ preach  _ to me," Jisung spat. "The only reason you're stuck here, working yourself to death instead of in class is because you let the stupid shit those asshole say get to you.  _ You're _ the one hiding. At least I know how to face my own problems instead of having someone else take care of them for me—" 

"I  _ never asked you to do that _ —!" Hyunjin shouted. 

"And maybe I shouldn't have." 

They were both breathing heavily, bodies pressed close together. Jisung was close enough to see the smallest of changes in Hyunjin's expression before he smoothed it over once again. It was that tiny  _ crack _ , that small glimmer of fear and doubt in Hyunjin's eyes that made Jisung swallow the rest of the words that were about to spew from his mouth. But it was still too late—too late for both of them. They couldn't take anything back. Not now.

Fuck, they'd just torn open too many wounds to stitch back together. If he focused, he could almost see both of them gushing blood onto the floor from where they'd attacked. Right at the jugular. 

"Maybe you're right," Hyunjin said, voice dangerously low. Jisung wanted to  _ kick _ and  _ scream  _ and  _ hit something _ out of frustration and anger, but he just stood there, shaking. 

Hyunjin laughed, but it was a cruel sound. "You know, it's funny. I actually thought we were becoming friends. Turns out I was wrong. I could  _ never  _ be your friend." 

Jisung bit down  _ hard  _ on his bottom lip before he said something he didn't mean—something he was sure he would regret. 

"Fuck you," was what he said instead. 

Hyunjin sneered—and ugly expression on his otherwise perfect face—before stepping away from Jisung. He ripped his arm out of Jisung's grip viciously, and Jisung fought the urge to flinch. His fingers itched without the warmth of Hyunjin's skin under his touch, but he ignored it. 

Jisung stayed where he was, frozen in fury, as he watched Hyunjin stalk across the room to grab his stuff. Once he had packed all his things, he slung his bag over his shoulder and marched to the door. He didn't look back—not even a glance over his shoulder—as he almost ripped the door off its hinges as he threw it open and left. 

Jisung was left standing there, shaking in anger and desperation and something else, something he couldn't— _ wouldn't _ —name. 

He was left there alone. 

*

Jisung sighed. 

He scratched out the words again, before starting a new sentence. He was crouched on one of the library chairs, turned away from the table, with his notebook balanced on his knees. Seungmin sat across from him, studying for whatever assignment he had for psychology. It might have been a test with the way he was highlighting everything on the page. 

When the next sentence didn't work either, Jisung scratched it out again, though more harshly than was necessary. He started again, but he just… couldn't focus. 

_ I could  _ never _ be your friend.  _

Jisung hadn't realized he'd written the words down until he was staring down at them. They mocked him, their cruel tone still echoing through his head despite the hours he'd spent trying to erase them from his mind.

He sighed again. 

"Why don't you just  _ talk  _ to him?" Seungmin asked—more snapped—and Jisung could clearly hear the exasperation in his tone. Jisung ground his teeth together until his jaw ached. 

" _ Talk?"  _ Jisung scoffed, flipping his notebook closed before Seungmin could see the words and turning to look at him, where he was hunched over his psychology textbook. "What's there to talk about?" 

"Seriously Jisung?" Seungmin sighed. He straightened, dropping the highlighter that he had been holding and burying his face in his hands for a few seconds. "Just—fuck, are you going to pretend these last few weeks didn't happen? You're going to pretend the two of you were never friends?" 

Jisung laughed humorlessly. 

_ We were never friends.  _

"I don't think getting along for two seconds counts as being friends, Min," Jisung said. His fingers unconsciously gripped the pencil in his hand so tightly he could have snapped it in half. 

"Come  _ on _ ," Seungmin said, frustration becoming more evident. "I was  _ there  _ remember? That was more than getting along. And look, whatever happened between you two, it cannot have been worse than—"

" _ Shut up—" _ Jisung hissed, not wanting to be reminded of  _ that  _ time. The things they'd— _ he'd— _ said still made him physically sick. 

Seungmin hummed knowingly, "Exactly. Now, if you could get through  _ that,  _ then you can get through whatever happened this time."

Jisung wanted to argue, he really did, but he couldn't. And Seungmin  _ knew _ it too.

Jisung wanted to curse at him because why did he have to be right all the fucking time.

"It's not that  _ easy,"  _ Jisung said instead. 

Seungmin looked at him, eyes murderous—which, dumb, because he should have been used to Jisung's stubbornness by now—and he would have no doubt jumped across the table and strangled Jisung right there, had Changbin not appeared out of nowhere. 

"Hey," Changbin said, rushing forward and placing his hands on Seungmin's shoulders to keep him in place. Jisung would have laughed at the way Seungmin sagged into Changbin's hold had he not been too busy mentally thanking Changbin for saving his life. 

"Hi," Seungmin said shortly. His tone was cold, but he leaned against Changbin nonetheless. He was still glaring at Jisung but now it looked less like he was about to pounce and kill him on the spot. 

Changbin looked between the two of them—a scowling Seungmin and a cowering Jisung—and raised his eyebrows. 

"What's going on?" Changbin asked. Jisung noticed the way he squeezed Seungmin's shoulders, the way Seungmin seemed to relax even more, stiff posture loosening, and the way the heat in his eyes lessened. 

"Noth—"

"Jisung's being a fucking  _ idiot _ ," Seungmin said before Jisung could get the words out. 

"Isn't he always?" Changbin asked and Jisung glared at him. 

Changbin rolled his eyes, moving to take a seat next to Seungmin and draped and arm over his shoulders. "What has he done this time?" 

"I didn't  _ do  _ any—"

"He got into a  _ stupid  _ fight with Hyunjin and now they're not talking and he's  _ sulking  _ about it," Seungmin said. He picked up his highlighter and threw it at Jisung without warning. Jisung wasn't fast enough to dodge and got nailed on the forehead. 

"Seungmin,  _ fuck,"  _ Jisung hissed, rubbing at the sore spot. He threw the highlighter back, and it would have landed—it  _ would have _ —had Changbin not snatched it before it could come into contact with Seungmin's shoulder. 

"So that's why you've been walking around like a kicked puppy," Changbin said. Jisung threw his hands up in frustration because he had  _ not  _ been sulking, and he had  _ definitely  _ not been walking around like a kicked puppy. 

"I have  _ not _ ," Jisung said, cursing himself when it came out as more of a whine. Changbin and Seungmin shared a look, and Jisung groaned. Changbin and Seungmin separately were almost bearable, but together? They were the worst. 

"I still don't understand what happened," Changbin said. His hand was absentmindedly carding through Seungmin's hair, Seungmin's head all but leaning on his shoulder. Jisung wanted to gag at them. "You got into a fight? You two get into fights all the time, what's different now?" 

And that was the thing, wasn't it? No one knew what was different. No one knew what had changed. For them, they'd just woken up one day and Jisung and Hyunjin were suddenly friends. They didn't know the history, the events that had led up to that happening. And Jisung couldn't—and didn't want to—tell them either. 

He bit the inside of his cheek and began packing his things. He heard Seungmin sigh from across the table and mutter something to Changbin under his breath. Jisung caught Changbin's soft  _ just leave it for now  _ and fought the urge to sneer. He didn't want to get into a fight with Seungmin too—and this  _ would  _ end in a fight—and then Felix would left to deal with the fall out. 

And  _ no one  _ wanted an angry Felix. 

"It just  _ is _ , okay?" Jisung huffed, shrugging his bag over his shoulder and standing. 

"Jisung—" Changbin tried to say, but Jisung shook his head. 

"Leave it, hyung. Tell Chan-hyung that I won't make it tonight, I have plans," Jisung said. He stared Changbin down when it looked like he was still going to try and argue with him. 

"Okay," Changbin sighed. Next to him, Seungmin shot him a scathing look, but Changbin just looked back neutrally. Jisung could see the exact  _ moment  _ Seungmin caved and let it go. 

_ Bless Changbin-hyung,  _ Jisung thought as he made his escape. He could vaguely hear Changbin trying to coax Seungmin away from his books and Seungmin resisting, but Jisung knew he would give again soon. 

It was Changbin after all, and Seungmin was—by definition—whipped beyond compare. 

_ Disgusting. _

"Hey hyung," Jisung said into the phone, when he was outside the library. "Wanna hang out tonight? I haven't seen you in forever." 

"Sure," Minho said, breathlessly. He must have been in the studio. "I'll bring the snacks."

Before Jisung could reply, he heard something. 

_ "Can I have some of your water please hyung?"  _

Hyunjin. That was Hyunjin. 

Jisung jerked and almost dropped his phone. He barely heard whatever it was Minho said to Hyunjin. And his brain could comprehend was that it was  _ Hyunjin _ . Hyunjin whose voice he hadn't heard in  _ days.  _ Hyunjin was  _ right there _ , he was right fucking there and—

"Jisungie?" Minho's voice snapped him out of his daze. 

"Yeah? Sorry, I zoned out," Jisung said. 

"I said I'd be there by seven thirty," Minho said. Jisung nodded, still a bit trace, before he realised Minho couldn't see him.

"That's fine, hyung," he said. He  _ hated  _ the way he was straining his ears to catch anything in the background. "I'll see you then."

"See you," Minho said, ending the call.

That was good, because if it had gone on for any longer, Jisung might have snapped and done something stupid (like ask about Hyunjin).

Jisung hadn't realised he was still gripping his phone  tightly until his fingers cramped and he had to loosen his hold. He blinked a few times, trying to get out of the voices that were just swarming him with  _ Hyunjin Hyunjin Hyunjin Hyunjin.  _

_ Fuck,  _ Jisung thought. He pressed his phone to his forehead. He did  _ not  _ miss Hyunjin. 

He  _ didn't.  _

He did.

*

He didn't care what Seungmin—or Changbin—thought, he wasn't sulking.

He didn't care where Hyunjin was or what he was doing. He didn't care if Hyunjin worked himself to death in the studio. And he really,  _ really  _ didn't miss Hwang Hyunjin. He  _ didn't.  _

_ How long are you going to tell yourself that? Until you believe it?  _ A voice that sounded way too much like Seungmin's piped up. Jisung scowled to himself. 

They had  _ barely  _ been friends, and it was quite obvious that Hyunjin didn't give a fuck, so why should Jisung?

"Jisung?" Minho said. When he got no response, he poked Jisung hard in the side until he yelped, snapping him out of his thoughts. " _ Jisung!"  _

Right, Minho was there too. 

Minho, who had come over as an apology for them not having spent time together in a while. It had been weeks since they'd hung out, just the two of them. Minho had been, not exactly  _ secretive _ about what he was doing, but Jisung didn't push because he knew that if Minho wanted to tell him, he would. 

So now they were supposed to be watching a drama that they'd fallen behind on, but all Jisung could think about was Hyunjin. 

_ Lovely.  _

"Shit—sorry hyung," Jisung said, reaching forward and pausing the scene. "Were you saying something?" 

Minho looked at him suspiciously. He picked up the laptop that had been resting on Jisung's thighs and placed it on the bedside table. He shifted around until he was facing Jisung fully, his eyes tracing the lines of Jisung's face as if it were a book he could easily read. 

Jisung squirmed under the scrutiny, but he knew avoiding Minho's gaze would only make him look even more suspicious. 

"I've been calling your name for five minutes. What's going on with you tonight?" Minho asked finally, but still he kept his eyes on Jisung’s as if that alone would pry the truth out of him. 

"Nothing's going on with me," Jisung said. He didn’t sound convincing to himself, and he knew he didn’t sound convincing to Minho, judging by the doubtful expression on his face. 

"It's  _ nothing."  _

"Jisungie," Minho said with a sigh, and  _ oh no _ , it was  _ that  _ sigh. Jisung would not be able to escape this conversation now, that was for sure. 

"We're three episodes into this drama and I bet you wouldn't even be able to tell me what's been happening so far." 

Jisung stared at him blankly, trying to recall anything he’d seen from the last two hours, but his mind could only provide detailed images of the cruel expression that had been etched onto Hyunjin’s face  _ that  _ night, contrasted only by the reminder of the soft tone of Hyunjin’s voice he had heard earlier over the phone. 

"I'm just tired, hyung," Jisung tried when Minho raised his eyebrows significantly. 

"No," Minho said. He sighed again, sitting up until he was almost towering over Jisung who was still slouched into the mountain of pillows behind him. "You're not tired. Do you really think I don't know when you have something on your mind. I'm your best friend after all." 

"Don't let Lix or Channie-hyung hear you say that," Jisung said, only half-joking.

It was true that he and Minho were really close, they jokingly called each other their soulmates, but Jisung also knew it would be hurtful to Felix—even to Seungmin—to hear anyone say that after all they’d been through together. He shuddered thinking about the hurt expression that Felix would try to hide. 

"Especially  _ Lix."  _

"Stop trying to distract me," Minho said, and  _ fuck _ Jisung had thought he wouldn’t notice. Minho gave him a stern look, one he usually reserved for the younger dancers in his class when they were practicing. 

Jisung shrunk away from him. 

"Tell me. What's going on?" 

"It's—It's complicated," Jisung said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. “It would take too long to explain.”

"I have a free day tomorrow, I don't have to be anywhere,” Minho said, and  _ huh _ this was the first time Jisung heard that Minho had a free day.

Jisung usually knew his schedule by heart, where had the sudden change come from? He didn’t have time to dwell on the slip-up though, because Minho’s look intensified. 

“ _ Tell me."  _

"It's about…" Jisung said. Minho leaned forward when he paused. Jisung heaved out a sigh, hanging his head. "Hyunjin."

"Hyunjin?" Minho asked, frowning. " _ Hwang _ Hyunjin?" 

"Do you know another Hyunjin?" Jisung asked sarcastically, but quickly stopped him when Minho opened his mouth to no doubt give an equally sarcastic reply. "Don't answer that." 

"Okay, so it's about Hyunjin…" Minho asked slowly, still frowning. "What about him?"

"We fought," Jisung said, hoping he’d be able to leave it at that, but knowing Minho would never let him get away with something so vague. He was proven right when Minho’s frown deepened. 

"Aren't you two always fighting?" Minho asked, confused. Jisung sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He knew Minho was still watching him, taking in his reaction. 

" _ Yes,"  _ Jisung said when Minho stayed silent. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. "But this time it's different."

"Oh, different how?" Minho asked softly, gently, as if he thought had to handle Jisung delicately. And Jisung hated the way that tone cut straight through all of his defenses, because  _ it wasn’t fair  _ that Minho got to him so easily. Sometimes he wished Minho didn’t know him so well. 

"We—We were starting to become friends," Jisung said, his voice cracking on the words. His anger from the last few days had completely drained away, and he now he just felt empty. "And now…"

"Wait, you and Hyunjin…  _ friends?"  _ Minho asked with a disbelieving laugh. Jisung moved his hands away from his face to look at a blurry Minho. "Since when?"

"A few weeks ago?" Jisung said hesitantly. 

Minho’s eyes widened as he looked at Jisung.

"And you didn't  _ tell  _ me?" Minho asked, his voice rising at end and making Jisung wince.

He had known Minho would react that way. They told each other everything after all. Jisung  _ could  _ bring up the fact that he had barely seen—and much less spoken to—Minho in the weeks he and Hyunjin had become friends, but that would be low even for him, and he didn’t want to get into a fight with Minho as well. 

"We didn't tell anyone," Jisung lied. Minho pouted and Jisung groaned. " _ Okay _ , we told Seungmin but that's because he's Seungmin and he would have figured it out by himself anyway."

"How did that even happen? Don't you two hate each other? You've made me sit for  _ hours  _ while you complained about him—" Minho said and Jisung waved him off. 

"Look, I can't really talk about it," Jisung said, because he really couldn’t without divulging everything that had happened between him and Hyunjin not just in the last few weeks, but in the last few  _ years.  _ And neither he, nor Hyunjin, wanted that. 

"It's just… I was there for him at a bad time and he was there for me at a bad time."

It was both that simple, and yet not nearly that simple. It was too difficult to explain the complexity of whatever his and Hyunjin’s relationship was. Jisung wasn’t sure he had the words—and he  _ always  _ had the words. 

"Okay so you two were… friends for a while. But now you aren't? Because you fought?" Minho asked, growing more and more incredulous with every word. Jisung couldn’t blame him, it did sound ridiculous. 

"Yes." Jisung said. Minho stared at him until Jisung had to look away. His eyes were wide and disbelieving. 

"Don't look at me like that," Jisung whined, picking up one pillow and throwing it in Minho’s direction. Minho laughed loudly, wrapping his arms around the pillow and holding it snuggly to his chest. He shook his head fondly. 

"It was one fight Jisungie," Minho said, and yes Jisung  _ knew  _ that, but Minho continued before he could protest. "You've fought before and still existed around each other, what's different about it now?" 

"I—he—" Jisung said, frustrated when he couldn’t get the words out. All that came to mind was  _ it’s different now,  _ but he wouldn’t be able to explain just  _ why  _ it was different and Minho wouldn’t let him side-step the subject a second time. 

"We're just not good as friends, hyung. Even when we're trying to do the right thing it still ends up like this." 

It was the truth, not the  _ whole  _ truth, but enough. 

"Like what? You two avoiding each other?" Minho asked, rolling his eyes. "I didn't notice it at first, but now that you've mentioned it, I can tell. What did you even fight about?" 

_ That  _ night came flooding back with crystal clarity. He could remember every detail, the feeling of Hyunjin’s rapidly fluttering pulse under his hand. The fierce look in Hyunjin’s eyes as he tried to frighten Jisung with his gaze alone. And those words, the ones that had been stuck in his head for days, playing on repeat. 

_ I could never be your friend.  _

Jisung’s frustration—at both himself and Hyunjin—returned as if it had never left. Now that his mind was no longer clouded with anger, he could see the situation more clearly, he could understand where Hyunjin was coming from, why he would have been angry, but that didn’t do anything for the sickening sensation in Jisung’s gut. 

"He just  _ refuses  _ to take care of himself. He spends hours in the studio, working himself to death. He walks around like a fucking zombie, doesnt eat, barely sleeps. And he wont  _ listen  _ to me when I tell him to take a break." 

"Hyunjinnie's always been that way," Minho said, laughing. Jisung couldn’t  _ stand  _ the laughter, but maybe it was deserved. "Did you suddenly expect him to change just because you became friends?" 

"No…" Jisung said. Honestly, he didn’t really know what he’d expected when they became friends, but he just knew it wasn’t this. "It's just now… _ I don't know _ . I don't know what's wrong with me. He's always done this, I don't know why it matters so much to me now."

"It's because you  _ care _ ," Minho said, shaking his head again, still laughing.

"Hyung, I've always cared—" Jisung said, but Minho cut him off with a raised hand. 

"But not like this," Minho said, reaching out and taking one of Jisung’s hands into his own, playing with the multiple rings on his fingers. 

"Look, maybe before you did care—in your own way. But now you care  _ more.  _ Now you care as his  _ friend _ , and that's entirely different than caring about him as just someone you know. He’s important to you now."

"I guess…" Jisung shrugged. He didn't know how comfortable he was with the fact that Hyunjin had become  _ important  _ in such a little space of time. 

But when he thought about it, Hyunjin had always been important, he'd just never wanted to admit it before. 

"He just… makes me worry. It's so dumb. But he gives me so much anxiety. I don't like seeing him like that. It's—It's  _ scary _ . He looks like he'll collapse at any second. I'm afraid that one day he  _ will _ , and I won't be there," Jisung said, biting down hard on his lower lip to stop the words from tumbling out. 

Next to him, Minho sighed—a different sigh, less annoyed and more fond—before scooting closer and wrapping an arm around Jisung's shoulders. Jisung laid his head on Minho's shoulder, slumping against him and leaving all his body weight on Minho. 

"Oh Jisungie," Minho said fondly, stroking Jisung's hair. "That's  _ normal.  _ That's how we all feel about him—and about you. It's what friends  _ do. _ There's no reason to fight about it." 

"I know but—" Jisung started, but paused. He took a deep breath, keeping himself calm. "I didn't even want to fight. I just wanted to talk. But he got upset—"

"And when he gets angry, you get angry?" Minho asked knowingly. Jisung bit the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. 

"Yeah…" Jisung said. It would come as a surprise to absolutely  _ no one  _ to know just how much Hyunjin got under his skin, how easily Hyunjin managed to get a rise out of him. 

"Ah, the two of you," Minho chuckled. He hit the side of Jisung's head gently. "So dumb,"

"Shut up, hyung," Jisung scowled even though Minho couldn't see it. Minho smacked him on this back then, hard. " _ Ow!" _

"Disrespectful brat," Minho sniffed. Jisung lifted his head and made a face. Minho made the same face back at him.

"But now that you know you were  _ both  _ idiots, what are you going to do about it?" Minho asked, but Jisung knew him well enough to know what he  _ really  _ meant. 

"I am  _ not  _ apologising," Jisung said, clenching his teeth. 

"Jisung—" Minho said with narrowed eyes. 

"Hyung—" Jisung tried to argue, but Minho pinched him on the thighs making him yelp. 

"If you want to be friends with Hyunjin—if you want to he friends with anyone—you need to make compromises. One or the other has to be the one to take the first step. And this time it has to be  _ you,"  _ Minho said, poking Jisung in the chest to emphasise his words. 

"But I didn't do anything  _ wrong,"  _ Jisung said, although he knew that wasn't the truth. 

"I bet Hyunjinnie doesn't think he did anything wrong either. But what  _ I  _ know is that he is way more stubborn than you. So this time, it  _ has  _ to be you, okay?" Minho asked, and this time there was no mocking, no playfulness. Minho was completely serious. 

They stared each other down, Minho's gaze steady and unrelenting. Finally, after what felt like forever, Jisung broke and turned away. 

"Fine," he said, pouting.  _ "Fine." _

"Good," Minho said, and Jisung didn't have to turn and see the self-satisfied look that would be painted across his face, he already knew it was there. 

"Is this what it feels like to be Woojin-hyung, giving advice to the clueless youth and bettering their lives?" Minho asked, and Jisung could  _ hear  _ the smirk. Jisung couldn't resist pelting him with pillows just to wipe that smug look off his face. 

They settled down again after that, their talk having calmed Jisung's mind enough that he could finally focus after days of being frazzled and burnt out. He could focus on the drama, laugh at the funny moments, and tear up at the sad ones. They stayed up until the early hours of the morning finishing every episode. 

Minho was sound asleep, curled around him softly, breathing heavy and deep. Jisung was dozing off too, but still his mind wandered to Hyunjin. 

Without the guise of anger and indifference, he could admit that he  _ did  _ miss Hyunjin. He missed him more than he'd ever intended to. The first few days had been easy, he'd been so caught up in his own feelings that he barely noticed Hyunjin's absence.

But that absence had slowly crept up on him, unsuspectingly, until one day there was a gaping, Hyunjin sized hole not only in his life, but also in his heart. 

It was ridiculous—he hadn't meant to get so attached so quickly, but that's just how things with Hyunjin were. You barely noticed something had changed until one day you're thrown back into the "normal" only to find that what used to be normal, no longer was. And you were left drowning. 

As he fell further into darkness, he wondered if they would ever be able to get back to that point again—not that they had gotten very far. He wondered if Hyunjin would even accept his apology, if he would let Jisung stay in his life. 

He hoped so. He  _ desperately  _ hoped so. 

He didn't know what he would do if Hyunjin didn't. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> my twitter [@hwngjisung](https://twitter.com/hwngjisung?s=09)
> 
> and my [cc](curiouscat.me/hwngjisung)


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